Pig in a Wig
by Bridgie
Summary: (Updated at last!) You want me to prosecute Harry Potter? Harry James Potter? As in, The-Boy-Who-Lived? Are you insane?
1. A Simple Request

Author's Note/Disclaimer: This story was created solely for the purpose of my entertainment and the entertainment of other fans of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. The characters do not belong to me, and no money is changing hands. I'm poor enough without facing lawsuits

The summer weather was fine, the homework was easy, and the Dursleys seemed to be ignoring him completely. This was all very good news to Harry, particularly the latter, but there was a strange sort of tension in the air that made him edgy all the same. He was inclined to chalk it up to nerves, after all, he'd been through a lot the past year, and he still had nightmares wherein he saw Cedric's lifeless body sprawled on the sickly grass and heard thin laughter and slow footsteps approaching. But he noticed he wasn't the only one who felt restless, not by any means.

Dudley had lost only a few pounds the previous summer, and had gained it all back plus some during the school year, so again he was on a diet. There was a change in him, though. He ate his grapefruit quarter without complaint, and did not ask for more. He went on walks grudgingly, wheezing unhappily upon his return, but again making no verbal complaint, though his set jaw and scowling mouth showed his frustration. He spoke little to Harry, as if tormenting him had become too much effort for too little reward, but his pale, watery eyes followed him frequently as he went from room to room. There was something hungry in their expression.

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I don't like it, Harry wrote jokingly to Ron, _He's on a diet again, what if he gets so hungry he takes a bite out of me? Or Hedwig, for that matter!_

Bite him back? Ron suggested in his reply, but Harry didn't think much of that idea, and the tension continued to build.

One evening as Harry sat in his room reading about the political structure of the fae courts, he heard raised voices in Dudley's room.

"I don't care!" Dudley shrilled, "I hate it! I hate it! I won't go back!"

"Have you lost your mind??" roared Uncle Vernon, "There's no better school in the country than Smeltings! No better school in the world! You're lucky to be there!"

"Don't you want to carry on the family tradition, popkin?" Aunt Petunia's voice was softer, fawning, but there was a strain in it and it quivered slightly. "Your daddy loved it there…"

"I'm not him!" Dudley yelled, "And I won't go back to Smeltings ever! Ever!"

"No son of mine is dropping out of school!" Uncle Vernon thundered, "Unless you want to feel that Smeltings stick across your backside, you'd better…" the voices dropped to inaudible levels again.

Harry's first inclination was to laugh, but his second was to stay quiet. If Uncle Vernon was mad enough to talk to Dudley like that, he'd be just as likely to knock Harry's head off. He got up very quietly and locked his door, then opened the window and let Hedwig fly out. No sense keeping her here with all the yelling; she'd just get upset. He settled back on his bed, trying to hear more of the argument, without much success. He could not remember Dudley ever having talked back to his parents before. He must really hate it at Smeltings.

He wondered what the trouble was. Not that he particularly cared what happened to Dudley, but he had always been popular in school before. More popular than Harry, at any rate. Harry snorted. Maybe he just didn't want to be so far away from Petunia's pampering. He hoped they made him go back. Served him right, anyway. He opened up his book again and thought no more about it. There was no more shouting that evening.

The next morning, a very soft knock on Harry's door awakened him. He stirred slightly, staring at it. No one ever knocked *lightly* on his door. Not in this house. If someone wanted him up, usually they gave the door a good kick. He stared a moment, but just when he had decided he had imagined the noise, it repeated itself: three light taps. He stood, put on his glasses, and walked to the door, then undid the lock, feeling almost apprehensive about what might be on the other side of the door.

To his surprise, it was Dudley. He looked awful. His eyes were even more watery than usual, bloodshot and shadowed from lack of sleep. He took a fearful step back when he saw Harry, covering his rear instinctively for a moment, then waved uncertainly. "Err…ahh…'Morning…Harry…"

Harry stared at his cousin as if he had grown a second head. Since when did Dudley say good morning to him? Come to think of it, how often did he call him by his name?

"Ummm…yeah. So…can I come in? Just for a second? There---there's something I want to ask…you…" He was tense, ready to flee at the first sign of magic.

"Is this some kind of trick?" Harry frowned at him.

"No! No, no, no…Promise. Cross my heart." He bit his lower lip.

Harry studied him a moment, then backed away to let him in, having a feeling he'd regret this. 

Dudley squeezed into the room and fidgeted a moment.

"Have you been crying?" asked Harry, taking a closer look at him.

Dudley looked defensive, "No! I mean…why would I be crying? I don't cry!"

"Right." Harry leaned against his desk and folded his arms skeptically.

Dudley's scowl softened into a nervous expression again as he cast about for something to inspire small talk, "Where's your owl?"

Harry couldn't resist, "Behind you."

Dudley whirled clumsily, looking fearfully behind him and cringing, then realized the trick and scowled furiously at Harry, "That wasn't funny." His fists clenched, but he made no aggressive moves.

Harry smirked at him, "She's out hunting. If you wanted to talk about Hedwig, evening would be a better time." He yawned, " It's not even seven AM yet."

"Not…really…" His scowl faded, "I was…just trying…"

Harry interrupted, "To get on my good side? What do you want? You haven't said a friendly word to me since I was born. If you think you can make amends now, you're mental." His tone was harsher than he meant for it to be, and his green eyes narrowed suspiciously at his cousin.

Dudley's shoulders drooped pathetically, "I know…" he sighed, "But I thought…and you're the only…and I never meant…" He stammered a moment, then squared his shoulders again and looked Harry in the eye. "I-I know I haven't been n-nice to you…well…ever…" said Dudley, "But I promise I'll try from now on, if only you'll do just one thing for me."

"Do what?" Harry backed away suspiciously.

"I w-want you to…to… turn someone into a toad!"

"You what?!" Harry stared at him a moment, then bent over the desk and laughed. He clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound, not wanting to wake Uncle Vernon. Dudley watched him with a mix of anger and anxiety, not wanting to ruin what small chance there was of getting his request granted by punching his cousin in the nose. Harry slid to the floor, stifling his giggles. It took several minutes for him to get control of himself, "D-dudley…why on earth…??"

Dudley averted his eyes, "She picks on me."

"Who?"

"The person I want you to change into a toad!" Dudley rolled his eyes, as if this should have been obvious to Harry.

Harry frowned up at him, "At school, right? That's why you don't want to go back to Smeltings? Some girl there picks on you?"

"And all her friends…" his voice got softer, and he refused to meet Harry's eyes.

"Did it ever occur to you that *everyone* at school picked on me, from the time I was five until I got accepted at Hogwarts?" His voice and his expression hardened, "Do you know whose *fault* that was? Can you imagine how *miserable* that made me??" He stood as he spoke, and his voice rose slightly. Dudley stepped back.

"I…can imagine now." He almost whispered.

"Well it's a little late, now!" Harry shouted, forgetting to be quiet.

A loud grumble came from down the hall, and footsteps approached the room. Harry winced as his door flew open, "What the devil is all this racket ab--Dudley?? What are you doing in here?" Vernon blinked blearily at his son and his nephew.

Harry froze, trying to come up with a lie, fast. Uncle Vernon hated nothing so much as being woken early on a weekend.

"Ummm…I came in to ask Harry to help me…help me pack! To go back to Smeltings!" Dudley interrupted brightly. "Right, Harry?" he turned to look at his cousin, and Harry was surprised to see a plea in his eyes.

"Err…right…yes. Of course I'll help you pack, Dudley," he blinked at the other boy.

"Hggmnph." Uncle Vernon grunted, eyeing them both with suspicion, "Decided to go back to school after all, then, Dudley?"

"Yes, sir," Dudley smiled obsequiously at his father, "You were right. It's the best place for me."

"Good lad." He ruffled his hair, shot Harry a venomous look as a matter of principle, then left. Dudley sighed with relief.

"What was that about?" Harry muttered to his cousin resentfully.

"He hates being woken early," Dudley explained, blinking at him, "You know that."

"No, I mean…the…covering up for me…" He frowned.

"I said I'd try and be nicer." He looked at Harry hopefully.

Harry groaned inwardly.

"Besides," admitted Dudley, "I didn't want to get shouted at either."

"You're really serious about this toad thing?" Harry eyed the plump boy dubiously.

"I can't take it any more. She's awful. It never stops. She…she calls me 'Whale', and makes fun of when I get answers wrong in class, and…she says I look like a pig in a wig!"

"I…see…" He stifled the impulse to tell Dudley that he agreed with his tormentor.

Dudley sat heavily on the edge of Harry's bed. The springs creaked. Harry bit his tongue to keep from shouting at his cousin to get his oversized rear off his blankets.

"Will you? Please, Harry? I…I can pay you…I still have some of my allowance…or I can borrow money off Dad and--"

"Dudley!" Harry interrupted, "Assuming I even *wanted* to help you--and you haven't convinced me yet, by the by--you know perfectly well I can't do magic outside of school. I'd get expelled. I've already got two counts against me from the year before last, and I don't think they wipe the record each summer."

"Couldn't you…keep it hidden somehow? How do they keep track?"

"I…never thought about it before, actually…but I do know they'd be able to tell the second I pulled out my wand. I wonder…I wonder if there's some sort of ward on me, or on this hou--" He cut himself short and glanced at Dudley, deciding that it would be a bad idea to voice the idea that had occurred to him, that the house on Privet Drive must be watched and warded by wizards for Harry's protection.

"On this house? There's magic on the house??" Dudley squeaked.

"Hush!! I never said that. I was just talking off the top of my head. I don't know, they may just be watching me…"

"But…if…the house…and…"

"Hush up! You'll wake Uncle Vernon again, and if he hears any of that he'll knock me into next week."

Dudley whimpered, but nodded obediently.

Harry studied him a moment, then relaxed again, folding his arms, "And if the school board didn't catch me, the Improper Use of Magic board would. I could be sent to prison for turning some unsuspecting Muggle into a toad, you know."

"A what?"

"Muggle. Muggle. Non-magic person." Harry enunciated carefully, getting exasperated with his cousin.

"Oh. Is it a nasty name?" He looked interested.

"Umm?" He blinked at Dudley. "I…not really. It depends on who's saying it, I guess. Not all wizards like Muggles."

"Do you hate…Muggles?"

Harry sneered slightly, "The only ones I've ever really known are you and your parents, and you haven't exactly given me reasons to like you, have you?"

"Oh." He shifted slightly on the bed, and the springs creaked. He looked nervous now, and almost…guilty?

Harry sighed, "I don't hate all Muggles as a matter of principle. I'm fairer than that. There are wizards who do, though. I go to school with some of them." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Which is why there's an Improper Use of Magic Board. Otherwise, you'd see a lot more people being turned into toads and snakes and mice."

"So you won't do it?" He looked despairing.

"Hadn't we already established that? I don't think I'm that good at transfiguration yet, anyway. I doubt I could do more than give her a few warts."

"I'd settle for that." He got a dreamy look on his face at the thought.

"No, Dudley. It's not going to happen. Doesn't matter how nice you are to me. Or how nasty," he added as an afterthought, hoping to nip any potential blackmail in the bud.

"Do you hate me?"

Harry, who had just been about to order Dudley out of his room, paused and stared at him. "Ah." His impulse was to say an emphatic yes, but something in Dudley's tone made him hesitate.

"That was a stupid question. I'd hate me if I were you."

"Really." Harry wasn't quite sure what to say, or where this was headed. 

Dudley shrugged, looking unhappy. "It's weird, you know…being picked on at Smeltings. I'm…not used to it. I thought it was normal for everyone to be nice, like Mum and Dad, and do whatever you ask them to do and to agree with you…"

"That's called being spoiled, Dudley."

"I *liked* being spoiled, then." He scowled at Harry, then looked thoughtful. "Maybe if it hadn't always been like that I wouldn't mind things so much now. It just…feels like a nightmare whenever I'm at Smeltings, and coming home is like waking up."

"Funny. It's the reverse for me." Harry looked out the window. It was true. The wizarding world, and Hogwarts, were where he felt at home, in his proper place, for all that there were someone there, someone very powerful, who wanted him dead.

"But you're *used* to it," complained Dudley, "I'm not…I'm…I'm sensitive."

Harry turned slowly to give him an incredulous look. "You're…"

"Mum always said so. I'm sensitive and--"

Harry rested his head in his hands, exasperated, "Dudley. Get out of my room." His voice was low and resigned. Why had he even let the conversation continue this long?

Dudley stared at him for a moment, half-scowling, half-pouting, then slowly got up and shuffled toward the door. Harry watched him go, locking the door behind him, then collapsed on the bed. He couldn't believe it, but for a moment there he had felt sorry for Dudley.

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More to come!


	2. You and Me and Bertie Bott Makes Three

Author's note: The disclaimer from the previous chapter still applies. Additionally, any resemblance between the 'Wonder' Juicer™ and any other appliances, living or dead, is purely coincidental. (I sure hope that little superscript TM stays there when I convert this to html…) Stay tuned for further commentary at the end of the fic.

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The Phooka is a rare and solitary creature, somewhat wild in nature but with extremely high intelligence and magical capability, Harry wrote rapidly on a roll of parchment _It is a shapeshifter that often takes the form of a shaggy horse or goat, usually black._

He sighed and paused for a moment. At the end of the year, Professor Binns had informed their class that over the holiday they were to write an essay comparing and contrasting three different supernatural beings in preparation for an additional class to be taught next term. The new class was Dumbledore's brainchild, a course on the culture of the various supernaturals of Europe. The information to be covered was vast and in-depth. Harry was not looking forward to it, but he had to admit it was rather interesting to be studying supernatural beings as potential allies rather than dark creatures to be avoided or defended against. He had chosen to write his essay about werewolves, giants, and phookas, as all three reminded him of absent friends. Giants reminded him of Hagrid, of course, though much of the information he could find of them in his textbook described them disparagingly. Werewolves naturally brought Remus Lupin to mind. He was beginning to regret the choice of the phooka as his third being, however, as he could find little information on them aside from a few folktales. But the idea of a being who could turn into a large, black animal at will reminded him of Sirius.

Harry stood and walked to the window. Less than an hour ago he had watched Vernon and Petunia pull out of the driveway. They had been invited to join some of Uncle Vernon's business associates for cocktails and dinner. Dudley had not been included in the invitation, and Petunia was hesitant to go without him, but he had practically shoved her out the door, insisting he wanted the time to himself, anyway. Harry suspected Dudley mainly wanted a chance to fix his own dinner for a change, so he could eat something other than salad and wheat toast.

An odd sound coming from the kitchen below him caught Harry's attention. It was a metallic buzz that he could not quite place until he recalled the 'Wonder' Juicer™ that Petunia had presented to Dudley at the start of the summer, along with a book full of vegetable juice recipes that were supposed to promote weight loss.

"Fantastic," Dudley had said, "Now I can drink rabbit food, as well as eat it."

Dudley hadn't touched the juicer since, though Harry sometimes heard Petunia grinding carrots and tomatoes in the early morning for her son's breakfast. He was surprised to hear the appliance running at all, much less for the amount of time it had been whirring away. It took Petunia less than five minutes to manufacture more juice than anyone cared to drink. Harry sat for nearly fifteen minutes, staring out the window and listening. The buzz continued. Curious at last, he got up and left his bedroom, heading downstairs. When he stuck his head into the kitchen, an amusing sight met his eyes.

The 'Wonder' Juicer™ was on the tiled floor. Dudley knelt by it, hunched over it thrusting vegetables and fruit into the maw of the appliance. A plastic bucket, half-full, sat by the machine to catch the precious drippings. However, Dudley had forgotten to close the cover and he and most of the cabinets and floor around him were spattered with juice and bits of pulp.

"Dudley?" Harry coughed, trying not to laugh, "What on earth are you doing?"

His cousin looked up, startled, then scowled and returned to his work, "Would you believe I'm thirsty?"

"Yes. But I won't believe you're going to drink that. You've just put a banana and a turnip in, one after the other."

He grunted in assent. "I thought maybe if I got rid of all this we could get something decent to eat."

"Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia might. Neither of us will. You're dieting and they hate me."

"I'm sick of dieting."

"You were sick of it before you started it."

A tangerine went into the juicer, peel and all, followed by a quarter of a head of purple cabbage. "Where are the parsnips?" Dudley asked.

"In the basket under the sink, with the onions and potatoes."

Dudley brightened and groped for the cabinet door, but he reached too far and his knees slipped on the juice-dampened floor. One foot flew out from under him and struck the juicer, which in turn hit the bucket and tipped it, spilling brown liquid all across the floor. The juicer skidded a bit, and the plug pulled free of the wall socket. The buzzing ceased abruptly. Harry watched the unappetizing, fruit-scented puddle spread over the linoleum. "Okay," he said after a moment, "I'm going to go back upstairs and lock myself in my room before your mother comes home."

He turned, but Dudley protested in a panicked tone, "Wait! She'll kill me! You've got to help me clean this up!"

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "No way. Your mess, your problem."

"If you don't help, I…I'll tell her you took the vegetables!"

"I was just doing my homework!"

"She'll believe me. She will."

Harry glared at him. "What happened to being nicer to me?"

"This is an emergency! Please? You won't have to do it by yourself. Here, I'll get the mop!" Dudley hopped up and headed for the closet.

"Wait! You're dripping! You'll get juice on the carpet." Harry sighed. "I'll get it. But you owe me."

Dudley tried not to look smug as he watched his cousin go, then reached to pull some paper towels off the rack over the sink. When Harry returned with the mop, Dudley was wiping juice off his pudgy knees.

"All right," said Harry, "You wash the 'Wonder' Juicer™ and the cabinets. I'll get the floor."

Dudley nodded eagerly in agreement, picking up the appliance and detaching the grinding blades carefully.

"And don't cut yourself," Harry added as an afterthought, righting the juice bucket gingerly, then poking at the puddle with the mop.

"Ewwww," Dudley commented as he opened the back of the juicer, watching the sludgy vegetable pulp drip into the garbage disposal.

Harry just rolled his eyes, shoving the juice puddle with the mop in an attempt to keep it from spreading further, then grabbing a handful of paper towels. "You should probably change clothes and rinse the ones you're wearing, too," he commented, "It looks like there's some tomato specks on your shirt."

"I'll do it when I'm done with this." Dudley rinsed the bits out of the juicer as Harry swabbed up the puddle with paper towels. It took two rolls full before he was done, and in the meantime, Dudley had wiped the cabinets down with a dishrag.

When the kitchen was finally spotless, Harry sank into a chair with a sigh. Dudley wrung out the dishrag, then looked over his shoulder at him. "Hey, Harry?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks."

Harry smirked slightly, "You still owe me."

Dudley looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned, "Wait here, I'll pay you back." He waddled out of the room and up the stairs as quickly as he could. Harry blinked after him, a little worried about how Dudley planned on repaying him.

His cousin returned after a few moments, jogging noisily down the stairs wearing clean, juice-free clothes and carrying a blue metallic bag in one hand. "I know you like these," he said triumphantly, "I remember how mad you got when I took yours from you at lunch when we were nine." He tossed the bag into Harry's lap.

"Cheez Crunchies," Harry read aloud, then laughed, "I remember these! I don't think I've had them since then…"

"So you still like them?"

"As far as I know." He tore the bag open and pulled out a lumpy twig of crisped corn, covered with fluorescent orange, cheese-flavored dust. "You know, I never realized what a disturbing color that was." He popped it in his mouth.

"Good, though." Dudley looked pleased with himself.

"Yeah," Harry agreed after swallowing, "But where did you get them?"

Dudley looked half-embarrassed, half-sly. "Well…I knew they'd put me on a diet this summer, so I saved up all the change I could and when I was waiting for the train at the station I bought out the vending machines."

"You've got a stash, too, then?" Harry shook his head, feeling he should be disapproving but choosing to be amused instead. After all, he didn't care if Dudley lost or gained weight.

"Too? You mean you've got one?"

"Since last year. My friends from school sent me snacks." He misinterpreted the sudden look of envy on Dudley's face. "I'm not telling where it is, though. Besides, it's wizard candy, you wouldn't like it."

Dudley flushed and sat heavily across from Harry, "It's not that. I've got plenty, really. It's just…no one from school would send me anything."

"Don't you have any friends at all there?"

"No," he replied shortly, then made an obvious attempt to change the subject, "What's wizard candy like? Different from ordinary candy? It's not all like that awful thing I ate last year is it?"

Harry regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "Well…no…most of it isn't. Fred and George Weasley made that toffee as a prank. They want to start a joke shop." He ate a couple more Cheez Crunchies.

"Oh. Well…if it hadn't turned my tongue like that and scared me so bad…it tasted good. Probably one of the best toffees I've ever eaten." He grinned weakly.

"Really? I'll have to tell them that." Harry chuckled softly. "They did it partly because they knew how awful you've been to me, though, you know."

"I know. Still, though, they should put a warning on those things. If that other man hadn't been there, Mum and Dad might have cut off my tongue…or I might have really panicked and choked on it."

Harry blinked, not having thought of that. "They weren't trying to be *that* mean…" he said uncomfortably, feeling oddly guilty. "But they won't be selling them to Muggles. Just other wizards."

"That makes a difference?"

"Sure. Wizards are used to odd things like that happening unexpectedly. They know how to deal with it. You should have seen the time in potions class when we tossed a firecracker in Malfoy's cauldron. The potion went all over. His nose was this big…" he gestured with his hands.

Dudley blinked. "It sounds like a cartoon. Would my tongue have stayed like that if no one had done anything?"

"Probably not…I don't really know. The feathers fell off Neville in a few minutes…"

"Feathers?!"

Harry chuckled and explained about the Canary Creams.

"Well, that's not so bad. I could deal with feathers." Dudley declared. 

Harry grinned evilly, "Oh, you think so? I've got a couple upstairs. Want to try one?"

"Er…no thanks."

"You sure? We could trade snacks." Harry nibbled another Cheez Crunchie thoughtfully. The gift of his favorite childhood snack made him feel mellower around his cousin than he ever had before. Besides which, Dudley was being unusually civil. Perhaps he had changed, after all. "I haven't had Muggle snacks in years. I kind of missed them. I actually have lots of things that won't enchant you when you eat them. Chocolate frogs…pumpkin pasties…sugar quills…and Mrs. Weasley's chocolate cakes…"

Dudley was interested in spite of himself. Food was his greatest weakness, and it showed. "Promise?"

"I promise. I'll warn you about anything funny."

Dudley looked at him searchingly for a moment. "Okay. I'll bring down part of my stash and you bring down part of yours. We'll trade snack for snack. Fair?"

"Sounds good." Harry rolled the top of the bag of Cheez Crunchies down to close it, holding it possessively. "But I'm keeping these."

Dudley laughed. "I've got lots."

Harry trotted up the stairs lightly, followed more slowly by Dudley. He locked the door to his room before pulling up the floorboard, not willing to risk his cousin finding his hiding place. He took out a little less than half of the delicacies he had hidden, leaving behind the more healthy fare Hermione had sent, then replaced the floorboard, and carried his armload of food back downstairs, lining up each item neatly on the kitchen table. Dudley appeared a moment later, his arms full of metallic bags and plastic wrappers. He sat at the opposite end of the table and lined his items up in a manner similar to Harry's, then sat. They regarded each other's prizes for a moment, then Harry offered, "I'll trade you a chocolate frog for that bag of pretzels."

"Is it a real frog?" Dudley inquired suspiciously.

"No, it's all chocolate, but you have to be careful when you open it. It moves like a frog for a couple minutes. You have to pin it down or it will jump."

Dudley looked both curious and intimidated. "Well…okay, then."

The snacks changed hands. Harry opened his bag casually and ate a pretzel, but Dudley unfolded the corners of the chocolate frog box as if he were afraid it would explode. The contents croaked once and gave a half-hearted hop onto the table. Dudley cupped his hand over the chocolate frog, wide-eyed. "You swear it's not real?"

"Cross my heart." Harry watched with amusement.

Dudley lifted his hand up just a bit to peer at the frog, then sniffed. "It smells like chocolate…"

"I'd wait until it's done hopping to eat it, though," Harry suggested. "It feels strange going down if you eat it before it's done."

Dudley nodded slightly, then lifted his hand slowly, his eyes still round and nervous. The frog hopped toward his face, and he jumped back with a yelp, then relaxed again as the amphibious confection grew still.

Harry coughed to hide a chuckle. "There you are. It's done. Take a bite."

Dudley picked up the chocolate frog and nibbled timidly on its right hind leg, then looked relieved. "It tastes like chocolate. Good chocolate."

"I think they're made in Belgium," Harry commented, continuing on his pretzels.

Dudley sat still for several moments, regarding the frog thoughtfully.

"Something wrong?" Harry inquired.

"Um…no…just…it's a little weird to eat something that was moving just a minute ago."

"And you're waiting to see if any part of your body is about to swell up like a balloon?" Harry teased.

Dudley blushed. "Kind of, yeah."

Harry snickered, then thought of something. "Hey, can I have the packaging? There's a moving picture in it and if anyone saw it I could get in trouble for passing off magical things to Muggles."

"It moves?" Dudley pulled the collectible card out of the box and stared at it. "Weird…she's winking at me…"

"She? Who is it?"

"Umm…it says 'Circe' on the bottom." Dudley handed the card to Harry.

"Oh…I have one of her already. Maybe Colin Creevey would like it. He collects these things, too…" Harry glanced at the card, then pocketed it. "She's creepy, anyway."

"And you just put her in your jeans pocket?" Dudley joked.

"It's just a picture…it moves, but it can't do anything. It doesn't even talk."

Dudley picked up the frog and took a more decisive nibble. "This is really good…what other kinds of things do you have?"

Harry showed him the pumpkin pasties, the sugar quills, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and the various baked goods Molly Weasley had sent him.

"What are Every-Flavor Beans?" Dudley asked, eyeing the box of Bertie Bott's jellybeans.

"They're jellybeans," Harry explained, "but they come in flavors you…well…wouldn't expect. I brought them down just to show you, really, I don't think you'd like them."

"Why not? I like normal jellybeans."

"Would you like a horseradish flavored one?" Harry grinned at Dudley's confused expression.

"Horseradish??"

"And rutabaga, earwax, fresh-cut grass, dirt…"

"But why? Why would anyone make an earwax flavored jellybean?"

"Dunno, but lots of people buy them. It's kind of fun, not knowing what flavor you're going to get."

"I'm curious now."

"If you trade and don't like them, I'm not trading back." Harry's eyes sparkled.

"Mmmmh…" Dudley looked thoughtful, then eyed his pile of food. "How about…I give you half a package of caramels for half of the beans?"

"Done. You're braver than I thought." Harry opened the box and poured half the jellybeans into Dudley's waiting hands. "Maybe you should review restaurants or something when you grow up."

"I'd never get skinnier if I did that," Dudley complained, setting the handful of candy on the table in front of him, then giving Harry half the contents of his bag of caramels as promised.

Harry wisely said nothing, merely watching as Dudley picked through the beans, trying to find one that looked safe. "I usually bite half of one. If I like it, I keep the other half so I can wash the taste out of my mouth if I get a nasty one."

Dudley nodded thoughtfully, picking out a bright pink one. "What do you think? Cotton Candy? Watermelon?"

"You wish. Probably Bubble Bath or something." Harry teased.

Dudley nibbled at it carefully, "No, it's Shrimp-flavored! That's so strange…"

Harry laughed at his expression, and Dudley defiantly popped the rest in his mouth.

Harry ate a couple caramels, then finished his pretzels, watching Dudley try the beans carefully, one by one. He got Candy Apple, Kiwifruit, Honey, Mocha, Almond, Apricot, and Kumquat, saving half of each in case of bad-flavored emergencies. He also got Celery, Bacon, Champagne, Bleu Cheese, Rose Petal, and Baked Potato, which he found odd, but ate anyway. And he got Rubber, Wasabi, Worm, Seawater, and Tobacco, all of which he spit out after the first taste and replaced with something more likely. Harry watched, thoroughly enjoying the show, particularly the contortions Dudley's expression went through when he tasted the Worm-flavored bean. Dudley didn't seem to mind. He even laughed once or twice himself. By the time his cousin had tired of the beans, Harry was surprised to find himself feeling almost friendly toward Dudley. Unfortunately, the noise of a car in the driveway interrupted them.

"Mum and Dad!" Dudley gasped, leaping up and scooping his snacks into his arms frantically.

Harry followed his lead, muttering a few words he wouldn't normally have used in front of anyone but Ron, whose swearing habits were far worse. Dudley didn't seem to notice, hurrying up to his room with his food. Harry had almost reached the top of the stairs when his own hand-me-down jeans (from Dudley, naturally, and far too big for him), tripped him. He fell on all fours, and the food in his arms scattered across the hallway.

Dudley glanced back in time to see what had happened, then ducked quickly into his room. There was a sound of things getting shuffled around quickly as he hid his snacks, then he hurried back into the hallway, where Harry was scrambling to gather his own candy together. He picked up a handful of Pepper Imps, licorice wands, and pumpkin pasties and shoved them hurriedly into Harry's arms, then began to scoop up the caramels for him. Harry stared at him.

"What?" snapped Dudley, "Hurry up, if they catch you we're both finished!"

"You're **helping** me," Harry said in confusion, then shook his head, setting his puzzlement aside for the moment and hurrying into his room. He yanked the floorboard up and started to stuff the food into his usual hiding place. Dudley followed him in and dropped the caramels in, as well, then helped him shove the floorboard back into place. They were just in the nick of time. Petunia's voice echoed shrilly from the foot of the stairs, "Duddykins! We're home! Where are you??"

Dudley winced, "I hate it when she calls me that," he muttered to Harry in an almost conspiratorial fashion, then shouted back, "I'm up here, Mum!"

"Come down, sweetums," she replied, "We brought you some lovely fresh spinach salad from the restaurant."

Harry blinked at Dudley as he rolled his eyes and headed for the door. As he was about to exit, Dudley paused, "Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"That was fun. Thanks." The cousins exchanged uncertain smiles, then Dudley shuffled down the stairs to suffer through a bowl of spinach salad with fat-free dressing.

Author's Note: Still more to come. This last chapter was very dialogue-based, so I hope it didn't bore anyone, but the next chapter will be more action-oriented. And there will be a plot. A real one. I'm on a roll this week, so it may show up soon, even. 

The mention of a class on supernatural beings and their cultures is a nod to a Hogwarts roleplay I have going.

Much thanks to all those who reviewed! It's very encouraging to post a story on the web, go to bed, then wake up the next morning and find 8 positive comments. Responding to individuals' comments in author's note's seems to be fairly commonplace here, so I will follow suit (always at the end, lest the commentary disrupt the flow of the story) unless by some miracle I get a vast flood of comments in a short time period, in which case I will probably just fall over.

ToonedIn: Oh, good, I'm original? ^_^ I try, but there's almost 50 thousand HP stories floating around here, and I can't read them all to be certain. I figured plenty of fanfic authors want to reform Draco, because he's nice looking, and Snape, because he's complex (ok, lots of people think he's nice-looking, too), but no one wants to reform Dudley because he's…well, not charismatic. But I've always sympathized with the fat kid in any story. And I think Dudley's main problem is that his parents have spoiled him rotten, and that he wouldn't be nearly as nasty to Harry if he hadn't been taught to. Please do keep reading!

CatalinaRose: Glad you like it. The title's the easy part. I had a title before I had a plot. ;-)

Katriana: Will do! Originally it was just going to be 'Harry and Dudley each realize the other's not so bad', but now I'm getting better ideas.

Jelsemium: After I posted the story, I had a moment of panic where I wondered if Smeltings was actually an all-boy's school and I had foolishly assumed it was co-ed. Then I checked 'Harry Potter and the Sorceror's (Philosopher's) Stone', and it doesn't really say, so I'll just run with it until someone points and laughs at me. Would you like to hear more about the bully herself? I wasn't really going to go all that in-depth regarding her and Dudley's conflict, but I could come up with something, if you're interested.

Kirjava: There ya go. ^_^ I think there will be at least four chapters, possibly five, when all this is through.

Kaylin: I am notoriously bad about starting stories and not finishing them, but I feel like, having posted these, there are people watching me. It's like a deadline but not as stressful. So I think I will actually finish this.

Red Witch: Thank you! I was going for cute, actually. I just hope Dudley didn't sound too much like Neville. But then, I think Neville has more grit than Dudley. Now people are giving **me** funny looks.

Falco: You know, I haven't done a search for Dursley fics on ff.net, but it wouldn't surprise me if there weren't many. Particularly not sympathetic portrayals. After all most people read the Harry Potter series because they like the magic stuff, and the Dursleys…can't do magic. ^_^;; truth is, I'm too intimidated to try and write a 5th year fic (for now…don't count on that worry lasting too long), and I'm not sure I could do an Alternate Universe and still keep them in character. So short fics squeezed in at appropriate lulls in the novels works to start with.


	3. Sleep Interrupted

Author's note: The disclaimer from chapter one still applies. Stay tuned at the end of the chapter for further commentary and individual responses to reviews.

"Wake up, boy! Now!!"

Harry was jolted from sleep by Vernon Dursley's grating roar and heavy pounding on his door. It sounded like his uncle was kicking the base of the doorframe. Harry staggered out of bed and unlocked the door, then was promptly knocked over as it flew open.

"You!" snarled Vernon, "You wicked, ungrateful…how dare you?!"

Harry scooted backwards in alarm. He could not see well without his glasses, but his uncle's face appeared to be plum-colored with rage, and one fist was clenched. For a brief instant, he thought he was having a nightmare, then the big man grabbed the collar of his pajamas and hauled him to his feet, thrusting his fist at his face…and opening his palm.

"How do you explain *these*?!"

Harry blinked at the blur of color in Vernon's meaty hand, less than three inches from Harry's nose. "I…uhm…hang on…" A bit shakily, he grabbed his glasses and slid them onto his face, trying not to poke himself in the process. As the spots of color in his uncle's hand came into focus, Harry felt his stomach sink. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"They're…just candy…" he protested faintly.

"Don't lie to me, boy! You've poisoned my son!!"

"What?!" Harry felt a surge of temper rise through him, "Did he tell you that??"

"He told me exactly what you two did this evening." Vernon growled, letting go of Harry and shoving him into a sitting position on the bed.

"He asked for them!" Harry protested, torn between fear of his uncle, fury at his cousin, and confusion at being awakened so abruptly.

"You tricked him!" accused Vernon. "You knew ruddy well he's been starving for sweets!"

"I didn't! We traded! He gave me caramels for them!" Harry spat out before it occurred to him not to give away Dudley's snack stash. But then, what did he care if Dudley had his candy taken away? He had obviously betrayed him. Harry grit his teeth. If his cousin had been there right now, he'd have broken his nose.

"What did you do to them?! What's in them?" Vernon demanded, and for the first time, Harry got a good look at his expression. There was more there than the usual anger and loathing. There was fear.

"They're just…sugar and flavorings…" Harry said sullenly.

"Liar!" his uncle snarled, kneeling and reaching for the floorboard under which Harry's snacks lay.

This was too much. Dudley had seen the hiding place when he helped Harry put his candy away. He had accused Harry of poisoning him just so Harry's food would be taken away! Heedless of Vernon's snarl of outrage, Harry leaped past his uncle and ran toward Dudley's room. To think Harry had trusted Dudley! He had almost started to like him!

As he reached his cousin's doorway, the angry words died on his lips. Dudley's own snack stash was spread across the floor, but Dudley himself was sitting up in bed, leaning into the arms of his mother, who was sitting next to him and rocking him with such an earnest look of distress on her face that Harry felt a wave of pity for her. She raised her head to look at him, and her eyes went cold. "The ambulance is coming," was all she said.

"Wh-what…?" Harry stared at Dudley, who was looking at him with wide eyes. There was no smug triumph on the larger boy's face, only fear and confusion.

"I don't understand…" Harry stammered, watching Dudley rub his eyes with a shaky hand.

"Don't bother lying," Petunia snapped.

"I didn't do anything…! Dudley, tell them!"

Dudley whimpered.

"Don't you talk to him!" Petunia said shrilly, "Don't you say a word!"

Before he could reply, Harry was shoved roughly aside by his uncle. Vernon did not even look at him, going up to Petunia with the box of Every-Flavor Beans. "It's got an ingredient list."

"Corn syrup…sucrose…citric acid…artificial flavoring…yellow #5…red # 40…" Petunia's voice broke.

"There's this, too." Vernon studied the empty chocolate frog box. "Looks like just chocolate and milk and sugar…"

Harry stared at them blankly. This was odd behavior…perhaps…could Dudley really be ill? He stared at his cousin. Dudley looked pale and sweaty, rather feverish. His hands seemed to be trembling. "I'm thirsty, Mum…" He complained very softly, without taking his eyes off Harry.

Harry backed out of the room quietly and pressed his back against the hallway wall. He could hear Petunia asking Dudley if his tummy hurt, and Vernon muttering, "I'm going to kill that boy…"

"There's nothing in there that could poison him," Petunia said shakily.

"Mm…you say the frog thing moved, Dudley?" Vernon asked.

"Y-yeah…it had stopped before I took a bite."

"Boy!" Vernon shouted harshly. Harry peered into the room hesitantly.

"What made the frog thing move?"

"An enchantment…" Harry replied quietly, afraid of the response. "It's never made anyone ill before. I've eaten loads of them."

"That's *you*," Petunia snapped, "Your digestive system's probably just as abnormal as the rest of you."

Harry felt both stung and worried. Could something that was perfectly okay for wizards to eat hurt Muggles? "I…could try and contact Mr. Weasley…maybe he would know--" he cut himself off as Vernon gave him a murderous glare. A siren began to wail in the distance, approaching rapidly.

Mr. Dursley crossed the room to grab Harry by the upper arm, shoving him toward his bedroom. "You're staying right here until this is sorted out, boy. If Dudley wasn't convinced this was an accident, I'd have broken your little neck already." He pushed Harry roughly into the room and slammed the door behind him. The external lock clicked shut.

Harry sat on his bed, shaken, listening to the paramedics rush up the stairs to help Dudley. A few days ago, wondering how many of them it would take to carry him might have amused Harry. Now he felt low and mean for thinking of it. Vernon and Petunia hurried down the stairs after their son. The doors opened and slammed shut. Then the house was quiet, except for Hedwig rustling in her cage. Harry wasn't sure what to think. Dudley seemed to be genuinely sick. If something Harry had given him had really made him ill…quite apart from being in for the worst treatment of his life from his aunt and uncle, Harry would feel terribly guilty. He had never before considered being friendly with his cousin, but for just a few short hours it had seemed like a possibility. Harry was quite sure there was no chance of Dudley and himself becoming as close as he and Ron, but the idea of having someone at 4 Privet Drive who did not hate him had undeniable appeal. But a chocolate frog and a handful of Every Flavor Beans might have ended any chance of that happening for good.

Harry's thoughts returned to Arthur Weasley. He worked at the Ministry. If any wizard would know about how enchanted objects affected Muggles, he would. Harry dug out a piece of parchment and a quill and began to write rapidly.

__

Dear Mr. Weasley,

I'm sorry to bother you, but my cousin has just had to go to the Muggle hospital. My aunt and uncle think it's because of a Chocolate Frog and some Every Flavor Beans I gave him earlier. Is it possible for wizard candy to make Muggles sick? Other than the obvious, I mean, like the Ton-tongue Toffees.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

He studied the letter for a moment, then as an afterthought added a postscript.

__

PS: If you write back and I don't answer, it's because I'm in a lot of trouble and unable to receive owl post. If this happens, please notify Headmaster Dumbledore for me, and take care of Hedwig if she comes back to you..

Thanks,

Harry

He folded up the note and tied it neatly to Hedwig's leg, then opened the window. "Take care, girl…say hi to Ron for me." She nipped his finger gently and took off.

Harry watched her vanish into the starry sky, then sighed and returned to his bed. He lay on his back, not bothering to take off his glasses. He was worried. He tried to convince himself it was only Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's reactions he was concerned about, whether they'd ever feed him again, let alone let him out of the room. But he had to admit that seeing his cousin so obviously ill and frightened was jarring. Dudley had never had many serious injuries, as he had never participated in much physical activity. He had worn a wrist brace once because he had an inflammation from playing too many computer games. And he had gotten minor colds every couple years, but that always made Harry more annoyed than concerned, because he ended up waiting on Dudley hand and foot when he was sick. Often Harry suspected Dudley had faked his illness just to watch him scurry.

But he was pretty sure he wasn't faking now.

Harry rolled over on his side, feeling slightly queasy as another thought struck him. What if the hospital couldn't do anything for Dudley? If Dudley was sick because of some enchantment on the candy he'd eaten, what good could an ordinary doctor do, particularly if he didn't even believe in magic? And if nothing could be done, would Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia have Harry try to call someone who'd help, or would they just keep bullying the Muggle doctors while Dudley got worse and worse…Harry shivered. Dudley just had to get better. He couldn't die, not because of Harry.

Too many people had already died because of Harry.

Dudley felt as if his head had been stuffed with cotton wool. It was hard to think, and his mouth was very dry. His hands shook and his knees felt weak. He really wanted to go to sleep, right there in the ambulance, but his mother was crouched next to him, looking frightened, and she kept talking to him, "How do you feel, Duddykins? Sweetums? Does your tummy hurt? Or your head? Mummy's right here, popkin…"

Dudley had never heard so many pet names used at once. "Mum? Is dad following in the car?"

"That's right, poppet…"

"What about Harry?"  
Her lips tightened into a line, and her voice grew harder. "Don't you worry about him. Daddy will deal with him later." Her voice and expression softened again, "You just concentrate on getting better."

"Didn't he want to come?" For some reason Dudley was hurt by this. Not that he felt himself to be great friends with Harry, but his cousin might at least have been concerned, considering Dudley was dying.

Well, alright, he didn't know for certain he was dying, but he'd never felt this bad before, so he assumed that was what was happening.

"Don't worry about him now, sweetums…"

"Ma'am, please move aside." A technician nudged his mother away gently and leaned over Dudley, checking his eyes. "You said you think it might be food poisoning?"

"Yes…" sniffled Mrs. Dursley.

"Mm…any vomiting? Diarrhea?"

Dudley shook his head. The technician pinched the back of the boy's hand gently. "You're terribly dehydrated, young man. When was the last time you had a glass of water?"

"Ummm…dunno…" Dudley slurred slightly, feeling drowsy and confused. "I usually drink juice, or diet cola. Mostly juice."

"When did you last have juice, then?"

"This evening…before bed. With the salad Mum brought."

Petunia choked slightly.

"What kind of salad?"

"Spinach," answered Dudley, making a face.

"Caesar dressing?"

"No, fat free Italian."

"So much for the salmonella theory, then…" 

Dudley didn't quite understand this, and from her expression, neither did Petunia. "He had a bit of candy, too…" she offered.

"Jellybeans," Dudley clarified. "And chocolate. And some cupcakes and M&Ms and sourballs…"

The technician eyed him thoughtfully, pursing her lips. "Salad and sugar, then…is that what you normally eat?"

"Um…yeah…" Dudley blushed. "I'm on a diet, but I have snacks hidden in my room. Am I going to die?" He bit his lip.

Petunia sobbed.

"Of course not," The technician ruffled his hair lightly. The ambulance pulled up to a stop at the hospital, and Dudley was helped out of the vehicle and into a waiting wheelchair (extra large). He could stand, but his walking seemed to be very unsteady. The technician who had been talking to them wheeled him in.

Dudley did not like hospitals. Aunt Marge had been in one for gallstones once, and Mum and Dad had brought him with them to see her. Dudley had hated the antiseptic smell, the sterile whiteness of the hallways, the nurses and doctors in their scrubs shuffling past, many of them looking either exhausted or anxious. He had fidgeted while his parents talked with Marge, eventually breaking a vase of flowers that was on the nightstand by her bed. His parents had been amused by this, and Aunt Marge hadn't seemed to mind, being thoroughly drugged, but the orderly that had been called to pick up the mess had given Dudley a rather nasty look. Dudley didn't like nurses or orderlies, either.

But the emergency technician behind him seemed all right, so he asked her a question, "Do you think eating magic things can make people sick?"

His mother flinched and looked nervous, "Now, Duddy, don't distract the nice lady with silly questions."

He blinked at her. Hadn't she been positive before they left the house that his illness was due to the magical sweets he'd gotten from Harry? She avoided his eyes.

Oblivious, the technician chuckled gently, "Well, that all depends what kind of magic things you're talking about. If you mean magic toadstools, like in Alice in Wonderland…well, I don't know about sick, but you could certainly end up extremely tall. And you should never eat a magic frog, you know, because it might be an enchanted prince."

"Even if it's chocolate?" Dudley suspected the technician was joking with him, but wanted to be sure.

"Well…maybe it would be okay if it were chocolate. Particularly German white chocolate with almonds."

Dudley grinned slightly. He was sure now that the technician was joking, but it made him feel a bit better. His grin disappeared abruptly as his mother leaned down and whispered to him, softly but vehemently, "Don't use the 'M' word!"

Oh. So that was the problem. Mum and Dad didn't want anyone to suspect there was anything odd about Dudley's illness. Well, how were the doctors supposed to figure out if he'd been magically poisoned if he didn't tell them he'd eaten wizard candy? He frowned at his mother, but said nothing more.

The technician wheeled Dudley into the emergency room and parked the wheelchair, then jogged lightly up to the front desk, leaning across to speak to the nurse there. Dudley caught the words, 'dehydrated', 'sugar', and 'blood test'.

Uncle Vernon caught up with them, red-faced from running from the parking lot into the hospital. He and Petunia exchanged a few words out of Dudley's hearing range, then Vernon came over and patted his shoulder in a way that was meant to be comforting, but instead was slightly painful due to the force of the pat. The technician came back over and crouched in front of Dudley's wheelchair, giving him a warm smile, "I've spoken to the nurses, and they're going to draw a little blood and run a few tests, and probably give you an I.V. drip to get some fluid back into your system."

Dudley nodded slowly.

"I'm going back to the ambulance now, but you'll be okay. Just hang in there and don't panic." She stood and ruffled his hair again, then told his mum, "Your son has a charming imagination." When Petunia didn't answer, the technician merely shrugged, then turned and loped back into the parking lot.

Vernon huffed into his moustache, looking displeased, but said nothing.

The wait to be admitted into the hospital was long and tedious, but Dudley was so tired he didn't mind much. He leaned back in the wheelchair and closed his eyes while his parents filled out paperwork and grew increasingly restless and worried, exchanging glances and whispered words. Finally, Vernon went up to the desk to bully the nurse on duty into speeding up the process.

A little over forty-five minutes after they entered the emergency room, Dudley was admitted and placed in a little curtained cubicle, where a white-haired doctor pricked his index finger and took a blood sample. A nurse came in and took his blood pressure and checked his pulse, then stuck a needle in his arm and hooked it up to a bag of clear liquid. Dudley couldn't bear to watch the needles entering his skin, so he let his mother hold him, burying his face in her arms. His father seemed angry more so than anything else, and was so short with the nurses that Petunia finally had to release Dudley to try and soothe her husband. Dudley sighed and sank back onto the cot, trying to ignore the sound of his parents' restrained arguing.

His thoughts strayed back to his cousin. As soon as Dudley had revealed that he'd eaten magical sweets from Harry, he'd told his father he was sure his cousin hadn't meant to harm him, only because he knew how much trouble Harry would get in if he said otherwise. His father had threatened to knock the skinny boy's block off numerous times. If he thought Harry had hurt Dudley on purpose, he'd probably make good on the threat this time, and Dudley didn't want to be responsible for that, not after all the times he and his friends had smacked Harry around in grade school. Dudley wasn't really certain Harry was so innocent, though. It had, after all, been Harry's suggestion that they trade snacks. And he, Dudley, had threatened to get Harry into trouble only a few minutes prior to the offer. Still…Harry had never tried to hurt him physically before, and he hadn't seemed hostile at the time. And his expression when he had run into Dudley's room earlier had not been one of triumph, but of shock and concern. Dudley just wasn't sure. He'd have felt better if Harry had been around to ask, but either Vernon had not allowed him to come, or Harry didn't want to. Dudley wondered, if it had been the latter, whether Harry didn't want to come because he felt guilty, or because he didn't care. Dudley's lower lip curled outward and quivered as he attempted not to cry. How come everyone hated him so much? 

He hadn't had any actual friends since he entered Smeltings. He and Piers had grown apart, and no one else in the school had been impressed by his bully routine. Anyone he tried to browbeat just called in one of the older, bigger students to put Dudley in his place, so he had given up on it by the end of second year. And then there was Maria Hennessey, the girl he had begged Harry to turn into a toad. She was probably less than half his size, but she had dozens of friends and a razor-edged tongue, which she used against Dudley mercilessly. He sniffled softly.

His self-pitying musings were interrupted by a round-faced nurse, who pushed back the cubicle curtain unceremoniously, clucking her tongue. "Well, we've found the problem, and it isn't food poisoning, per se."

Dudley rubbed his eyes hastily and sat up to listen. "Well? What is it?" Vernon asked roughly, as Petunia wrung her hands.

"We got his HBA1C results back, and they're extremely high. His blood glucose is about 480 mg/dl, which--"

"What does that mean?" Petunia whimpered. "Is that bad??"

"Speak English," snapped Vernon.

"…which explains the dehydration and dry skin." She continued as if neither of them had spoken. "A normal blood glucose reading should be less than 150 mg/dl," she added patiently.

"I still don't understand," Petunia murmured, but Vernon had a look of dawning comprehension on his face.

"Your son has diabetes, Mrs. Dursley."

Author's note: The thot plickens. Or something. I'm not quite as happy with this chapter as the previous two, but that may just be because I had to write it in pieces by stealing time at work whenever I could. I can't quite put my finger on what's bugging me about it.

Here's a couple questions for anyone who wants to post a review:

Anyone like the emergency medical tech? I could bring her back in subsequent chapters, but I'm afraid then the focus would shift from Harry and Dudley interacting to Dudley dealing with his diagnosis. I don't want this to become an 'Oh, poor Dudley' fic, in fact, I swear to you it won't, whatever I have to do to prevent that. And I promise Harry and Dudley will actually be in the same scenes in the next chapter. Yeah…so there's a question in there somewhere…

I'm going to be treading a fine line next chapter, between putting in enough explanations so people who have no experience with diabetes will understand what I'm talking about, and sounding like a medical reference. Does anyone have any suggestions?

And should I drag the Weasleys into the mix?

Finally, if anyone can think of a better chapter title, let me know. I really struggled with it.

Again, thanks to all who reviewed, and double thanks to those who reviewed for the second time!

Katzztar: Actually, the real trick is to make Dudley likable without totally changing his character, and I'm working hard at it. I'm glad you feel I'm succeeding! ^_~

Anonymous person: I'm considering that, but there's no way Harry would do magic on the girl just because she's picking on Dudley. He'd get expelled. And Fudge would have a field day! That would just be proof to him that Harry'd gone off the deep end and was obviously delusional about Voldemort's return. Which would actually make for kind of an interesting story, except I think it would be OOC for Harry to risk expulsion for Dudley. Maybe for Ron or Hermione or Sirius, but not Dudley, not even now.

However, a harmless little prank involving a dungbomb…

Also, readers should note that there may be a very good reason this girl is picking on Dudley. ;-)

^-^: Oooh, it's a genki reviewer! Kawaii! *cough * Sorry. Umm…yeah. I've actually been struggling to keep Harry from being too forgiving. I'm kind of a doormat myself…if someone apologizes to me and gives me a couple hours to cool down, I'll forgive pretty easily. On the other hand, I think Harry bottles up his emotions a bit, particularly where the Dursleys are concerned. So he may be able to behave in a friendly way around Dudley while still being privately resentful.

CherryStain: I ran a search for Dudley fics a couple nights ago. There's a lot where he turns out to be a wizard, a couple where he has a magical child he wants Harry to take care of, and a few where he 'befriends' Harry in a far more intimate manner than I'm interested in writing about. (Slash is fine, but incest is just icky.) For anyone reading this to note: There is a cute short fic where Harry offers to help Dudley lose weight, which I thought was nice and which was eerily similar in some ways to my own. It was written before I ever thought of my fic idea, and now I'm a little afraid someone will think I copied from it. I swear, I never read it until the evening of September 15 2002! The story's called 'Family', the author is 'webmeister'. If you like to see Dudley being humanized, this is well worth reading.

And I agree with you about Dudley. Not to blame his entire personality on Vernon and Petunia, but being spoiled as a small child will have an effect on the way you view the world around you. I should know, my parents spoiled me quite efficiently. ;-)

Faith McKay: I'm slowing down a little as far as writing is concerned, largely because I've reached the stage where I have so overwhelmingly many ideas that I can't decide which to work on. I have over a dozen Harry Potter fanfic ideas now, three started, one plotted, and none finished. I'm trying to work and update at breakneck speed because I go through phases and if I lose interest in this the ideas I have will probably never get written. Then again, I may lose interest in some and then regain my focus after reading the fifth book or something. There was a point in there somewhere…Oh, yes. I will try to update as frequently as possible. That's all I really meant to say. ^_^

Kaylin: Yay! You came back! Glad you're enjoying it.

Fetch: Thank you. I try very hard to keep characters in my fan fiction in character. Alternate Universes aside, I think there's not much point in a fanfic if you lose the feel of the original characters. Some people are better at keeping the tone than others. I'm glad you think I do alright. ^_^

Um…Dudley/Fleur? There's one I'd never thought of. I've seen Dudley/Hermione, but…

How would they even meet? I guess Dudley could go to France on exchange, but then he'd still have to be around French wizards…I'm putting too much thought into this. I have enough fanfic ideas as it is! Stop making me speculate on things! ;-)

Katriana: You're welcome, although I must admit I was very intimidated by your email address. ;-) I'll email you again once this is posted. I don't mind sending out a few notifications when I get reviews out of it. ^_^

Anakah: Thanks for the compliment, but I'm curious what you meant by it. You've never read fics like this in what sense? The style or the subject matter? I guess it doesn't really matter as long as you liked it. ;-)

MysticJedi: I like a good angst fic myself, I just can't write 'em (Well, not without a little humor to leaven it, anyway), because I get too involved, and then I get depressed. Reading them works, though.

As much as I hate to depict Dudley as no more than a walking stomach, I figured if anything could bridge the gap between the Muggle world and the wizarding world for him, it would be food. Hence the candy exchange. In any case, now the door is more open for him to be curious without being terrified of being enchanted.

ToonedIn: Thanks for the email! I appreciate your continued interest. Harry strikes me as a sort of everyman, so it's easy to turn from his character as presented in the books and mold him so gradually into what you think he should be that you don't notice until it's too late that he's completely OOC. I hope I can keep him in character.

Camel Socks: Thank you! I'm not sure how well they'll end up getting along by the end of it, actually. I'm not going to try and turn them into best pals, but I can see them reaching an understanding of sorts. I'm glad you like my writing style. ^_^

Vireco: Your review keeps vanishing and reappearing. It's very strange. I think it just got posted now as I'm looking at it and my browser is struggling to keep up. Anyway, I'll email you as soon as I put this up. I'm glad someone's reading my comments, too. I'm never sure if putting them up is interesting or just superfluous, but it's just too tempting to babble when I've got an audience. *^_^*

I feel like I'm forgetting to add something, but if I did, I guess I can edit later.


	4. Sweetums

Author's Note:  No, not like the Muppet.  Thanks to ToonedIn for the chapter title idea!  Disclaimer from chapter one still applies.  More commentary and responses to reviews at the end of the chapter.

It was well after dawn when the Dursleys returned home to 4 Privet Drive, dazed and exhausted.  Dudley had been properly re-hydrated and was walking on his own.  Well, nearly on his own.  Petunia had one of his pudgy arms tucked under her long, bony one, and refused to let him go.  Vernon held a sheaf of doctor's notes and prescriptions in one hand.  He had already called Grunnings and left his secretary a voice mail message, informing her that he would be out all day.  He was planning on going to the 24-hour pharmacy as soon as Dudley was settled.

In retrospect, Vernon Dursley should have suspected the nature of his son's ailment.  His mother Euphemia, god rest her saintly soul, had suffered from diabetes late in life.  Marge had, in fact, been showing signs of it for years but had ignored her doctor's orders to curb her appetite for sweets and alcohol.  Vernon had a fear of diabetes developing in himself, but it had never once occurred to him that Dudley could get it.  The boy was only fifteen, after all, and had never been anything but robust and hearty, if not particularly active.  He regarded his son out of the corner of his eye, suspiciously, as if expecting to see the sturdy, ruddy-faced youth dissolve into a pale, skinny weakling right before his eyes.  Dudley looked pallid, indeed, and very tired, but he was still anything but skinny.

Vernon unlocked the door and went into the living room first, then stopped so suddenly Dudley and Petunia bumped into him from behind.  "What the devil are you doing out of your room!"  He sputtered, turning red.

Harry was sitting calmly on the sofa, fully dressed, but barefoot.  There was a long leather glove on one hand, and a familiar owl was perched on it.  Harry looked up with wary green eyes, but said nothing, stroking his pet's snowy breast.  Behind Vernon, Petunia slipped her arms around Dudley protectively, but no one else spoke or moved for the space of several heartbeats.  "Is he okay?"  Harry asked quietly at last.

"No thanks to you," shrilled Petunia.

"Now, Mrs. Dursley, you know it wasn't Harry's fault," said a quiet male voice.  The Dursleys jumped and turned in unison to find a lanky, red-haired man in a brown robe striding casually down the hallway, a tea tray hovering gracefully over his left shoulder.  He was smiling pleasantly, but there was a glint in his eyes and a muscle in his jaw was slightly clenched.  "I'm sure you're all exhausted, having been up all night, but I think perhaps you should sit down a moment and talk this over."

"Who--how--what are you doing in my house?!"  Vernon thundered.

"This is Mr. Weasley, Uncle Vernon," Harry volunteered, "You should remember him, he came to pick me up last summer."

"He fixed my tongue," Dudley added in a tiny, timid voice.

"Bloody right, I remember him, he blew apart half the living room!" Mr. Dursley roared, "But that doesn't explain what he's doing here now!"

"Harry sent me a message by owl last night," Mr. Weasley slipped past him and plucked the tea tray out of the air, setting it neatly on the table, then sat next to Harry protectively.  His gaze as he looked up at Vernon was penetrating, commanding the outraged muggle's attention.  "There is no possible way the sweets he gave your son could have poisoned him or injured him in any way.  The enchantments on wizards' food are heavily tested and regulated by the Ministry to be safe for all humans, wizards and Muggles alike, to eat.  Digestive enzymes negate all enchantments permitted on edibles upon contact.  Period."

Dudley shuffled into the room to sit down in his favorite overstuffed recliner.  Harry was looking him over with an intent expression, as if trying to reassure himself that his cousin was all right.  Dudley avoided his eyes.

"You came all this way to tell us this?" Vernon scowled, still furious but wary of the abilities Weasley had demonstrated on his last visit.

"The postscript on Harry's note concerned me.  It suggested that he expected to be blamed for Dudley's illness and after the state my boys found him in the summer he turned twelve…" he trailed off, giving the two adult Dursleys a harsh look.

"He never got anything he didn't deserve," Vernon snapped.

"We've never *beaten* him," Petunia protested, "nothing like that!"

"He was locked in his room when I arrived," Mr. Weasley appeared to be making an effort to keep his voice down.  "I'm sure you don't lock your own son in his room when you go out…"

Dudley looked up at Harry quickly.  That was why he hadn't come to the hospital with them.  He'd been locked in.  He knew this shouldn't make him feel better, but it did, and he flashed Harry a weak smile.  Harry looked taken aback, not sure if the expression had been mocking or sympathetic, but after a moment, he gave his cousin a jerky nod in response.

"You have NO right WHATsoever to tell ME how to run MY household!"  Vernon began to lose his temper again.

"Where this boy is concerned--" Mr. Weasley began, stiffening in his seat, but Harry interrupted in a mild voice that would have made Dumbledore himself proud, "The tea's getting cold.  Wouldn't anybody like some?"

"I would," said Dudley brightly, then his face fell.  "No…wait…nevermind.  I can't."

Petunia's eyes watered and she crossed the room to squash her son into a hug.  "My poor Duddykins…"

"Why can't you?" Harry asked softly.

"Well, I can, but not with sugar.  I don't like my tea black."  Dudley sulked, allowing his mother to hug him.

The two grown men in the room continued to look daggers at one another, but the argument seemed to have been defused for the moment.

"I don't understand," Harry studied his cousin.

"I've got diabetes.  The doctors said so.  I can't have sweets anymore." At the last statement, Dudley looked as if all the light had gone out of his world.

Arthur Weasley broke his gaze away from Vernon's to look at the boy.  "I'm sorry to hear that, Dudley…that's what sent you to the hospital last night, then?"  He relaxed a bit, sympathy filling his eyes.

Dudley nodded unhappily.  "They're making me take pills.  And then if the pills don't help, I'll have to have shots."

"Insulin shots."  The red-haired wizard nodded.  "Well, look here…" He poured a cupful of tea, then drew his wand and gestured at it lightly, murmuring, "_Saccarum_."  A couple white sparks fell into the liquid.

The Dursleys jumped.

"It doesn't taste quite like sugar, but it'll do for now.  I suspect there's some sort of Muggle fake sweetener you can buy somewhere."  He offered the cup to Dudley, who reached for it hesitantly.

Petunia made a small, anxious sound, and Vernon scowled, "Don't drink that, Dudley…"

Arthur looked mildly offended, taking a sip of the drink himself, then offering it to Harry, who did the same.  "Whatever you may think of wizards, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, if I wanted to harm any of you, I could do it more easily by casting a spell directly on *you*, rather than on your breakfast."

Dudley leaned forward and reached for the cup more eagerly.  Harry handed it over with a faint grin, watching as he took a sip.  "It's not bad…" he said after a moment.  "Can you do that to éclairs, too?"

Harry noted the look of dawning horror on Vernon's face and sought to short-circuit the coming explosion, "How do you know all this, Mr. Weasley?"

"Bill's diabetic," he replied quietly.  "Didn't you know?"

"*Bill* is?"  Harry stared, trying to reconcile the image of the tall, thin, ponytailed young wizard with the pasty, overweight muggle boy before him.

"Well, yes…it's a rather complex illness, and while magic can keep him healthy despite it, it can't quite cure it.  Not yet."

Dudley's expression had grown very interested during this exchange, but now it fell into despair once more.  "Even *magic* can't fix it?"

"I'm afraid not…but I know rather a lot about it, so if you've questions, Dudley…or I could have Bill owl you…"

"Just a minute!" Vernon shouted suddenly, "It's bad enough there's two of you sitting in my living room!  I will *not* have my son corresponding with a--with a--"

Arthur's eyebrows rose slowly toward his hairline.  "With a what, Mr. Dursley?  That is *my* son you're referring to, mind.  I'm going out on a limb by even suggesting it.  Wizards really are not supposed to correspond with Muggles, but since you *are* Harry's family…"

Vernon subsided, but Petunia muttered resentfully, "Please…_don't_ do us any favors."

The wizard's brows knit.  "Very well, then.  I won't."  He started to stand, "Harry, will you--"

"Wait a moment!" Dudley started up shrilly, "Don't I get a say in this?"  His round face reddened as he glared at his parents.  "I'm the one who's sick, aren't I?"

Harry winced, recognizing a tantrum coming on.

"Of course you are, sweetums," Petunia patted his arm, "But the doctor gave us all sorts of pamphlets to read, and…I really don't think…"

"What about what *I* think?!"

"And what's that?" Vernon growled at him, "What do you think?  You think you'd like to buy yourself an owl and start firing off scrolls of parchment?  Or maybe leave Smeltings and go to that ruddy--that---Harry's school, instead?"

"Magical abilities aren't an infectious disease, Mr. Dursley.  Your son won't catch them from corresponding with mine," Mr. Weasley said coldly.

"That's not the point!  The point is we've been trying our damnedest to keep *his* abnormality quiet for the past five years," he jabbed a finger at Harry, who scooted back and held Hedwig out of the way, "only to be undermined now by our own son turning against us!"

"Vernon…" Petunia whimpered in a half-hearted attempt to calm her husband.

"I'm not a little boy anymore, Dad!" Dudley's voice rose, "You can't make all my decisions for me forever!  I haven't even been allowed to pick what to eat for the past two years!  I don't care how weird and freakish they are if they can help!"

"All right, then," Mr. Dursley's voice was suddenly quiet.  "You want to give it a try, go with him."  He jerked his head at Mr. Weasley.  "Now.  Get your things and go."

Dudley and Harry both stared.

"Vernon!  You don't mean that!" Petunia looked close to tears.  "He doesn't mean that, Diddy…"

"I'm dead serious!"  Vernon's face turned purple again as he resorted to the standby phrase of all frustrated parents of teenagers, "As long as you live under my roof, you'll abide by my rules!  If you don't like it, move out!"

Harry exchanged glances with Arthur Weasley.  He looked torn between fury and sympathy.  Harry wondered if Mr. Weasley would still like Muggles after this experience.  Petunia began to cry at last, while Dudley and Vernon tried to stare each other down.  Suddenly, Dudley snapped, flinging his half-full teacup at his father's head and shouting, "Fine!  I'll just eat grapefruit and take pills and go back to Smeltings and be miserable!"

Vernon tried to dodge the cup, but wasn't quick enough.  It glanced off his shoulder, spilling lukewarm tea down his front, then bounced off the arm of the sofa and shattered on the floor.  "Dudley!!" He bellowed.

"I hate you!" his son shrieked passionately, rising from his chair, "I hate you I hate you I hate you!!"  He turned and waddled from the room as fast as his legs would go.

Vernon took a step after him, then stopped, turned, and kicked the coffee table so hard the tea set almost fell off.  Then he stormed toward the front door.

"Vernon?" Petunia stood and hurried after him, sniffling, "Vern, where are you going??"

"Out!"  He snapped, "To the bloody pharmacy!"

The door to Dudley's room slammed loudly.  As Mr. Dursley departed, the front door slammed in response.  Petunia stood in the hall a moment, looking dazed, then turned to look at Harry and Mr. Weasley tearfully for a moment.  She started to say something, then shook her head, turned away hurriedly, and ran up the stairs.

Alone in the living room, Harry and Mr. Weasley stood silent for a long moment.

Harry was the first to speak.  "I suppose I'd better sweep up that cup…"

"Cup…?"  the older wizard looked bemused.  "Oh…no…don't bother…_reparo_!"  The teacup reformed, hovering in midair, then levitated gently to join its mates on the coffee table.  "Are they…Harry…are they always like this?"

"Err…well…pretty much.  Usually they don't yell at *one another*, but otherwise…"

"Right."  Mr. Weasley ran a hand through his thinning hair.  "I was going to ask if you wanted…and now I really think…Dumbledore had his reasons for wanting you to stay here, of course, and I don't mean to second-guess him, but, Harry, I really think you should come back to the Burrow with me.  Right away.  I'll help you pack, if you like."

Harry's heart leapt.  He had expected to be invited back to stay with Ron's family this summer, but he hadn't expected it so soon.  "I'd like that very much, Mr. Weasley," he began, then hesitated.  For some reason the image of Dudley alone in his room had entered the young wizard's mind.  Alone all summer, with no letters from school friends and at odds with everyone else in the house.  Very much like Harry had felt the summer before his second year.  And sick, on top of it all.  He bit his lip, unwillingly feeling pity for his cousin.  He suspected that if their positions were reversed, it would not occur to Dudley to feel the same, and yet…

Harry sighed.  "I think I should stay," he said with finality, his shoulders drooping a little.  "At least for another couple weeks.  Until Dudley…adjusts."

Mr. Weasley looked mildly stunned, "Are you quite sure, Harry?  I doubt your relatives will feel very friendly toward you for some time after this incident…"

"I know.  But I don't think Dudley has any friends.  I don't exactly like him, either, but I think maybe he's trying to change…and he is my cousin, after all…" Harry shrugged helplessly.

The older wizard regarded him a moment, then patted him warmly on the shoulder.  Something in his gaze was approving.  "If you change your mind, I want you to owl me right away, you hear?"

He nodded, smiling.  "I'll be okay.  I've lived with them for fourteen years now."

Arthur shook his head and sighed.  "I'll keep in touch."

"Yeah.  Okay.  Tell Ron I said hi, and I'll see him soon."

Mr. Weasley nodded and gave a slightly strained smile, then waved his wand, muttering a short series of words, and vanished, having Apparated back to the Burrow.  Harry stroked Hedwig pensively for a moment, already unhappy with his decision, then set her aside and began putting the tea things away.  First he was going to take a long nap and catch up on the sleep he'd missed.  Then he would go see how Dudley was managing.

I'm sorry this one took so long!  I hope I haven't lost any readers to the delay.  I had a touch of writers' block, unfortunately, but I think I like the way this one turned out, particularly the image of Dudley throwing a teacup at his father.  Another problem I have is I have my finger in every creative pie I can think of.  I do writing, drawing, sewing, and jewelry, and things just kept coming up the past two months.  First I had an artistic commission, then a craft show to prepare for, then a contest.  Anyway, I hope to get a couple more chapters done before the holiday rush gets me down.  Wish me luck. ^_^;;;

Of course, once I finish this story I've got a Ron-fic in mind.

Next chapter, in which Bridgie fights against the dangers of obvious exposition, should be mostly Dudley-Harry dialogue.  It's already begun, but I can make no promises as to the date of completion, except that it will be before Christmas if I have anything to say about it.

Thanks to those who reviewed!  Extra thanks to repeat reviewers and those who've put me on their favorites list.  I consider that an *extremely* high compliment, and I hope I can continue to live up it.

Also thanks to anyone who's read more than one of my fics.  I've got the prequel to the Snape-Hermione thing about 3/4 of the way done, so it should be up before Christmas as well, but I'm having trouble with the other, and I might put it on sabbatical.  Anyway, on to the individual reviews (Warning!  Some of my responses are ridiculously long):

ToonedIn:  Usually I go chronologically, but you get first response since you managed to pinpoint exactly what was bothering me about the last chapter.  I wasn't satisfied with the tone of the end.  It felt bland to me, too, and when all the rest of the story is done, I may go back and try to brush it up a bit.  Till then, thank you for the constructive criticism.  I'm a real wuss when it comes to that sort of thing, so I admire people who can do it tactfully.  Please do keep reading and sending me your comments, positive and negative.

Tyde: Heeheehee!  I knew Dudley could be a person, that's why I wrote this. ;-)  I'm sure Rowling doesn't intend for her readers to like Dudley any more than she intends for them to like Voldemort (or Draco Malfoy, or Professor Snape, for that matter), but these are all characters we see filtered through Harry's perspective, and therefore we get a biased picture of them.  The Dursleys are drawn with broader (no pun intended, heh) strokes than most of the characters in the wizarding world (the exceptions being Rita Skeeter and Gilderoy Lockhart), and therefore they come off as a bit cartoon-y.  However,  the fact that they're recurring characters suggests a chance for some kind of development and depth to me, a chance that I don't expect to see for, say, Crabbe and Goyle.  Um…yeah…now that I've babbled at you, thanks for adding me to your list. ;-D

Skullfarmer:  The hospital scene was based on my own admittedly blurry memories of a trip to the emergency room, the cause of which I'd rather not discuss.  Gods, I hated the needles, though; you're right. *shudder*  I'm fortunate enough for that one trip to have been my only firsthand hospital experience, aside from a couple diabetic teaching classes.  I hope you're recovering well, and thank you for the compliments.

Astarii Amaranth:  Yay, someone appreciates my humor!  Thanks for adding me to your list.

Jelsemium: I feel like I have a hard time with Harry's character, so I'm glad you like the way I'm playing him.  That's how I'd eat Every-Flavor Beans if I had any (Actually, I've tried the ones made by Jelly Belly.  They're not bad.  I kind of like the Grass flavored ones.  But I hear they're actually manufacturing Vomit flavored ones now, so I'm afraid to buy them again.)  I knew a few female bullies in middle and high school.  I'm generalizing of course, but I feel they tend to be more intellectual than male bullies, and they go for mental anguish and humiliation rather than physical intimidation.  That way if whoever they're picking on fights back physically, the bully who provoked them in the first place has the moral high ground.  It wouldn't be an easy situation for a boy like Dudley to deal with.  I do plan on having more about his school situation sometime in the next couple chapters.  Glad you like the idea!

^-^:  Harry talked.  Dudley just didn't respond. ^_~  More Harry-Dudley character interaction next chapter, just for you, and because I think Dudley's just managed to alienate both his parents temporarily.  I'm working on a way to describe the mechanics of diabetes as I understand them in the next chapter.  There wasn't much information this chapter, but I'm thinking I may have Dudley and Harry exchange a few letters with Bill Weasley after all.  I know I'm going out on a limb giving Bill diabetes, too.  I hope no one thinks it's too much.  I think when they go back to school will be the end of the story, unless I decide to do a short epilogue of them exchanging letters.  I think Mr. Weasley has probably scolded Harry a little for giving Dudley wizard's candy, but I also can't imagine that the wizarding world expects wizards with Muggle guardians or families to keep everything secret from them.  That would require at least weekly memory charms. It just wouldn't be practical.  Which, if you think about it, may be an actual *logical* reason for pureblood wizards to view part or all-Muggle wizards with suspicion, not out of pure prejudice but out of fear of their world being betrayed by an ignorant family member.  What will Ron and Hermione think of Dudley's personality change?  You know, I hadn't thought of that.  I'm not sure yet.  Something to think about in the next chapter, I guess. I'm also not sure how long the fic will end up being, but I think it will take at least two more chapters to get where I want to go.  I'm flattered to be the recipient of the longest review you've ever submitted. ;-D

Faith McKay:  I feel bad for Dudley, too.  I hope his tantrum this chapter didn't kill the sympathy. ;-)

rabbit and -v-Jinx-v:  Heheheh, thank you!  It took me at least half an hour to come up with all the jellybean flavors, so I'm glad you like 'em.  I think I'd actually like a Rose Petal flavored jellybean.  I've had rosepetal jelly.  But I digress.

I think Harry would have gotten locked in a closet if the Dursleys hadn't been more focused on Dudley.  His luck may or may not hold out, though.

I read 'The Truth About Stacy' a long time ago, but I haven't heard of the other one.  I do know Stacy had type 1 diabetes, and Dudley's got type 2.  I'm afraid I'm relying mostly on my own experiences for his situation.

Cherry Stain:  I'm about…two months late now. ^_^;;;;  I feel really bad about it, too.  Don't you hate it when real life gets in the way of pursuing your hobbies?

Indigo Ziona:  I think by the end of this, Harry and Dudley will have developed some kind of rapport, if not friendship exactly.  I think I'll confine outside contact to letters for now, but I may change my mind later.

Otaku freak: Eep.  Sorry the update took so long!

Carrierk818:  Umm…I didn't understand most of that, but I can say 'bellybutton' in fourteen languages.

I'm American too.  I wonder if it's glaringly obvious?  I'm trying to keep the language fairly neutral and avoid American slang, but I just know sooner or later I'll use some word that means something different on the other side of the ocean than it does here.

Katriana:  Diabetes runs in my family.  I haven't got it yet, but I have about an 85% chance of developing it sooner or later, so I'm fairly well-informed.  Glad you like the twist.  I'll email you as soon as I get this posted. ^_^

rabbit and -v-Jinx:  Ooh, again!  I'm flattered that you liked it enough not only to read it more than once but review more than once.  I haven't quite decided how Aunt Marge will react.  I've implied here that she has diabetes as well, but that doesn't necessarily mean she won't behave exactly as you've suggested.  I may or may not throw her into the mix.  We'll see.  Vernon, I think, is having trouble with his son being 'sickly' at the moment, although he's angry more about Dudley's sudden interest in magic.  I'm not sure how (or if) he'll adjust.  But you're dead-on with my ideas about Petunia's reaction.  I have to confess, I don't have many concrete plot ideas from here on, but I'm working on it.

Thanks for the reassurance.  I'm relatively new to posting on fanfic.net, and I'm not sure how people will react to that sort of thing just yet.  I'd hate to get flamed for plagiarism I didn't commit. _;  Hope you enjoyed 'Family'.

GeEtErZ:  Thank you!  There's more to come.

WolfMoon:  Yeah, me too.  ;-)  This was conceived of as a one-shot, but it just keeps growing.  Gods only know where it'll go from here.

carrierk818:  * blinkblink*  Hello again.  We're keeping you away from caffeine and sugar from now on, kiddo. ;-)

Camel Socks:  I'm glad you like the idea.  I'm even gladder that it seems to be fairly unique.  I don't think the Weasleys will be coming to visit again, at least not for several chapters.  If they did, I don't think I could handle a scene with all of them at once, not with the way I write dialogue.  But I think a couple letters from Ron and/or Hermione could be interesting.

Ariqua:  Ahh.  I've noticed that, myself.  I do try to keep grammar and punctuation accurate, although I throw in sentence fragments here and there (deliberately, for the most part) and occasionally I have trouble punctuating dialogue.  I don't know, I just feel like putting something up on the net is the next best thing to publishing, and if hundreds of people are going to see it, it had better be readable.  I think some people consider a posting here to be simply a rough draft, though.  And I suppose some just can't be bothered.  To each his own, I guess. *shrug*

If Dudley keeps fighting with Vernon, Harry may have to take him to Hogwarts. ;-) Just joking; that's not a plot twist I plan on, although I hesitate to rule anything out yet.

Kalih:  Thanks!  I hope you find this chapter up to snuff.

Camel Socks:  Hi again.  ;-)  Sorry for making you wait.  I hope you haven't given up on me yet.

Fleur:  I think the last thing sufferers of any chronic illness want is pity.  Understanding, yes, but not pity.  Which is one reason I'm not making this a 'poor Dudley' fic, but I also don't want to test anyone's patience.  Asking people to accept Dudley as a multidimensional character is one thing; asking readers to empathize with him completely is another.  I think it could be pulled off, but I'm interested in keeping this a bit light and focusing on character interaction.

How about if I reverse your idea and have Harry explain the disease to Dudley? ;-) I think the medical abilities of the wizarding world are somewhat limited due to the complexity of the human body and the side effects that almost certainly would occur when said human body is subjected to high levels of magic.  I have opinions on the nature of magic that aren't exactly expressed in the series.  One; that a sorcerer/ess can't do something magically that they cannot conceive of in a certain amount of detail.  Two; that something cannot come from nothing, even using magic, by which I mean magic converts energy into matter and vice versa, but it does not actually *create* matter.  Three; that magic use requires energy from the user and from the external world.  I have arguments for the validity of all these opinions, but I'm afraid I'm already testing peoples' patience with my babbling already. ^_^;; Anyway, what I'm saying is that diabetes is a complex illness, the cause of which has not been worked out with any real certainty.  The pancreas is involved.  So is the liver.  A certain amount of genetics is behind it.  There are all sorts of root causes that work together.  So a medi-wizard can't just wave a wand and say a few words, because s/he couldn't be sure what to alter to cure the diabetes: pancreas, liver, chromosomes, body composition…there's too many options.  If it could be traced to a specific problem, say the pancreas, the organ in question could be removed, but it would have to be replaced.  This, I think, is within the realm of possibility for the wizards of Rowling's world; after all they have Skele-Gro.  But a potion or spell would require energy to recreate an organ of such complexity.  That poses some problems.  My theory with the Skele-Gro is that it either contains an energy source or feeds off the energy in the body of whoever swallows it.  Either case would cause it to have limitations.  If it contained a powerful source of energy, taking too much of it would be like swallowing something radioactive.  If it fed off body energy, taking too much of it could cause bones to grow while muscles, skin, and nerve tissue atrophied.  So the same sort of problems could occur in trying to regrow a lost organ.  All of which, I think, is why Mad-Eye Moody was still missing a leg.

Anyway, sorry for the mini-dissertation there…I'm going to shut up now.  I like your suggestion about one boy explaining it to the other, though.  It makes it more accessible.  And that way if I make any mistakes in explaining it, I can just blame it on the character. ;-D

Ikazo: Awww…you don't hate my version of Dudley, do you?  Don't make him cry, now. ;-)  I'm glad you're enjoying my story.

Shadowycat:  I agree.  Like I said in my response to Tyde, I think the Dursleys come off as a bit cartoonish.  I'm going to get smacked or flamed or something for this, but I think this is a problem with several of the characters in the series.  When Rowling really works at defining a character, they come off as well-rounded, very human, very realistic.  When she does not, as with less important characters like Crabbe and Goyle (They're like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.  You can't talk about one without mentioning the other.  Crabbeandgoyle.), they come off as sort of plastic.  So that's my armchair-critic opinion.  To me, the Dursleys are just the people next door confronting a situation that they were completely unprepared for, and reacting to it with less nobility than one hopes one would under similar circumstances.  They're not pleasant, creative, or positive, but they're human.

Anonymous:  Okay. ^_^

Harema:  Well, I wouldn't want it to be too realistic, or it wouldn't be any fun at all. ;-)

Ariana Deralte:  Thank you for reviewing all three chapters!  And I believe you also reviewed 'An Unexpected Regret', so thank you again. ^_^    I'll be sure to check out Summertime Blues.  Someone reading from a medical text at the beginning of the chapter could work.  I'm considering it.  Please keep reading, and thanks for the compliments.

Night Shade:  Thank you.

Aeryn Alexander:  Uhoh, there's people reading this who are actually diabetic?  Now I'm in trouble; that means I have to be accurate. ;-)

Erk…almost half of the length of this is responses to reviews…is this normal or am I long-winded? *hides*


	5. My Cousin's Keeper

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I had a bad case of writer's block. This is a two-for-one though: I've updated 'Little Gidding' as well. Go see! Disclaimer from chapter one still applies. Stay tuned for further notes and individual responses to reviews.

"Go 'way!" Dudley answered in response to the soft knock on his bedroom door. His voice was muffled by the pillow in which his face was buried. It was past noon, but he was still in his pajamas, having spent most of the morning dozing and feeling sorry for himself. The floor of his room was littered with used tissues.

"Oh, that's nice," came Harry's voice from the other side of the door, "After I've gone to all this trouble to bring you lunch…"

Dudley perked up a little in spite of himself. He was hungry. Then again, any lunch he was allowed to eat couldn't be all that appetizing. "Of what? Green salad and cottage cheese?"

"You'll never know unless you open the door." Harry sounded annoyed.

Dudley hesitated, torn.

"Fine. I don't know what I was thinking, anyway." Footsteps moved away from the door.

Dudley jumped up, "No, wait! Harry?" He opened his bedroom door. Harry was halfway across the hall, heading for his own bedroom with a tray in his hands. He paused and turned bright green eyes on Dudley, a knowing smirk dancing on his lips. "You're going to have to come out of your room to get it now. I fixed something for us both. I'll be eating in *my* room."

"What *is* it?" Dudley whined.

"Food. Go get dressed, or I won't let you in." The smaller boy vanished into his own room, closing and locking the door behind him.

Dudley rushed after him and turned the doorknob futilely. From inside the room, Harry laughed. His cousin drew back a step to kick the door angrily, then thought better of it. He'd already chased his mother away, and his father was still furious at him. Better not to alienate everyone in the house. Dudley shuffled back to his room and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, then washed his face in his bathroom and returned to the door of Harry's room. This time it opened when he tried the knob.

"About time," Harry said from the floor, his mouth full, "The soup's getting cold."

Two identical trays were set neatly on the floor. Each had a glass, a mug, and two plates. The portions of food thereon were smaller than Dudley would ideally have liked, but the food itself looked more interesting than he'd expected. "What is it?"

"There's tomato soup," Harry pointed to the mug, "It's just canned, but it'll do. This is chicken salad…" he pointed to the larger plate. "I made it out of the chicken breasts Aunt Petunia baked for dinner last night. And this is half a baked apple. There's cinnamon on it, a little oatmeal, and a tiny bit of sugar."

"Can I eat this stuff?" Dudley sat down, eyeing the repast with hungry eyes.

"I checked the papers the doctors gave you. I mean, really read them. This is all fine. You're allowed up to seventy-five grams of carbohydrates for every meal."

"What?" Dudley stared at him blankly.

"Did you pick up on anything the doctor told you?"

"Um…if I eat the wrong thing, my blood sugar goes up. If it stays up too high for too long, I could go blind or have heart problems or kidney problems, or lose feeling in my hands and feet."

"Do you know why your blood sugar goes up?" Harry drained his own soup mug, eyeing his cousin blandly.

"Because of sweets?"

Harry sighed, "Now I know how Hermione feels…"

"Who's Hermione?"

"Nevermind. Look, it's like this, as far as I can tell from the pamphlets I read: Carbohydrates are in foods like fruit and bread and potatoes and sweets. When you eat something with carbohydrates, your body converts the carbohydrates to glucose, which you then use for energy. You with me so far?"

"I think so. Go on." Dudley picked up his soup mug and sipped at it tentatively, then more hungrily.

"Right. Well, there's this chemical called insulin that's in your body--I'm not awfully clear on that bit, but I think it said it comes from your pancreas--"

"Whatever that is."

Harry snorted. "Anyway, you need the insulin to…to sort of let the glucose be absorbed into your muscles and things. But if you have diabetes, either you don't make enough insulin, or your body doesn't use it quite right somehow, so the glucose just stays there. And that's what's not good for you, because it can damage your nerves and eyes and heart. All right?"

"Umm…carbohydrates make glucose. Glucose and insulin make energy. Without insulin to break it up, glucose can hurt you. So I can't have anything with carbohydrates in it??" His eyes widened. This was worse than he thought. He had expected to just have to avoid sugary things. Would he have to do without bread now, too?

"No, no, you have to have *some* carbohydrates. You just can't have too many. Like what you've got here: there's 22 grams in the soup, and then there's another 15 in the apple. More like 20 with the sugar and the oatmeal. And I've given you milk to drink, so that's another 15."

Dudley looked at him blankly. He had always had trouble with numbers.

"Nevermind," Harry sighed. "You should read the papers the doctor gave you; they explain it all. And don't get used to me making lunch for you. I just thought you should come out of your room, that's all."

"But…what you're really saying is I don't have to eat nothing but grapefruit and salad and things? I can have meat and--"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes. You need to have meat and things, actually, because the protein--" He stopped as Dudley's eyes began to glaze with confusion again. "Nevermind. What it comes down to is you have to have a little of everything, but not too much of any one thing. And you will have to keep eating vegetables, and grapefruit, just not *nothing but* vegetables and grapefruit."

Dudley took a couple bites of chicken salad, considering this. It wasn't exactly good news, but it sounded as though from now on he'd be eating better than he had been. "I think I like you better as a dietician than the nurse at Smeltings," he told Harry after a moment.

Harry snorted again, but looked amused. "Well, like I said, don't get too used to it. I've spent half my life cooking for you. I've enjoyed not having to do it the past couple summers."

"But Mum doesn't make things like this…" Dudley complained softly, poking at his apple with a fork.

"It wasn't hard. There's recipes in the papers the doctor gave you. In fact…" Harry's eyes lit up suddenly, "Maybe you had better learn to cook, yourself…"

"Me?? But cooking's for girls!" Dudley wrinkled his nose in disgust at the idea, then realized what he'd just said, "I mean…I don't think I'd be as good at it as you…"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Not that I'm calling you a girl or…anything like that…" Dudley floundered, "Just…um…you've done it before and…"

"Dudley," Harry interrupted. "What are you going to do when you grow up?"

"Huh?"

"When you get out of school, what are you going to do? Are you going to live here forever?"

"Dad said once he thought he could get me a job at Grunnings."

"So you're going to live at home for the rest of your life?"

"Well…no. I thought maybe I would…get married or something. Someday. If I found a girl who'd appreciate me…like Mum always says…"

"You're going to be waiting a long time if you're hoping for a girl who'll wait on you hand and foot the way Aunt Petunia does." Harry cut a bite off of his apple, looking irritated.

Dudley bit his lip. "What are you asking me this for, anyway?"

Harry sighed. "Look…I've watched you grow up. You don't *do* anything, Dudley. I've had to help with cooking and do dishes and gardening and sweeping up since I was four. I've done all my own laundry since I was eight. You've never had to lift a finger. And I know you hardly ever even did your own homework; you used to bully Lauren McNeil into letting you copy hers. Or me."

"*Your* answers weren't always right, though. She was brainier."

"That's not the point." Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I just think you ought to learn to do something for yourself. And you like food. You ought to like cooking."

Dudley took a few bites of his own apple. It tasted a little like apple pie if you closed your eyes and ignored the fact that there was no crust. Cinnamon-y and sweet. The oatmeal on top was nicely crunchy. He felt a little put-out by Harry's suggestion. Here he was, all sick, just back from the hospital. This was hardly the time for Harry to accuse him of laziness. But at the moment, Harry was the only person in the house speaking to him. Even his mother was upset with him. Dudley didn't really feel like arguing, either. He sighed deeply. "Are you going to teach me?" He couldn't keep the edge of annoyance out of his voice.

Harry looked up at him, plainly surprised. "You'll do it, then?"

"If you help get me started." He scowled back.

Harry laughed suddenly. "You *have* changed, Dudley. If I had suggested this last year, you'd be throwing things at me."

"I'm too tired to throw things," he whined.

"Are you too tired for a walk to the library?"

"A what-??" Dudley stared.

"A walk to the library. It isn't far. Less than a mile." Harry fought to keep the smirk off his face.

"Why would we go to the library?"

"For cookbooks, obviously."

"Do we have to walk? Dad could drive us."

"Do *you* want to ask him?"

Dudley winced, "Erm…no."

"You think he'd be pleased if I asked?"

Dudley couldn't help laughing at this.

"There you are, then. We're walking. It's a nice day, anyway. Are you done eating?"

Dudley shook his head, cleaning his plate and draining his cup hurriedly. Harry stood and crossed over to Hedwig's cage, lifting up the cover to check her water dish. The owl hooted softly. "Ssh," he said, "sorry…didn't mean to wake you. It's only noon. Go back to sleep."

Dudley swallowed and set his cup down, hauling himself slowly to his feet. "Does it talk back?"

Harry let the cover drop and turned to give his cousin a speculative look. "Not in words. Come on, get your tray. We'd better do the dishes before we go or your Mum'll have a fit."

The trek to the library was the longest walk Dudley had been on in as long as he could remember. It turned out to be a little more than a mile, and the sun was hot. He was red-faced and panting by the time they got there, and his blond hair was plastered to his neck with sweat. When they entered the building, he shivered at the change. The air was cool and dry and smelt of paper and leather bindings and glue. Harry moved toward a computer terminal, but Dudley made a beeline toward a rack near the front desk. "Hey…I didn't know they had VHS tapes here!" He studied the titles, then moaned, "Oh, they're all educational."

Harry snickered, "We're not here for videos, anyway." He bent over the terminal, typing in a password, then clicking on the search function.

"D'you come here often?" Dudley watched, bemused. He'd never allowed Harry to use his own computer, and they hadn't had much time with them at school, so his cousin's proficiency surprised him.

"Lots, last summer," Harry pushed his glasses up as they started to slide down his nose. "It's cool and quiet, and the best place to do my homework without being interrupted."

"What kind of homework do you have? Doing magic things?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "No…I told you I'm not allowed to do magic over the summer. Mostly I have reading and essays."

"Oh. That sounds boring. Just like what I have." Dudley sounded disappointed.

His cousin's lips quirked. "What were you hoping I had to do in the summer?"

"I don't know…I thought maybe you'd…you know, cast spells and turn pumpkins into coaches and fly around on broomsticks." He shrugged helplessly.

Harry giggled and answered cryptically, "Not in this neighborhood. Here's some…" he groped for a pencil and wrote down the call numbers of several cookbooks. "Look, here's one that's even specifically for diabetics."

"I guess we'd better start with that one," Dudley sighed and shuffled after Harry, dragging his feet.

"It's not the end of the world, Dudley…" Harry looked over his shoulder unsympathetically.

"What do you know about it?" Dudley's temper flared suddenly, and he spoke louder than he should have. A librarian looked up from the front desk and frowned at them. Dudley ducked apologetically.

"More than you do," Harry hissed back, nettled, "You didn't even know what a carbohydrate was."

"I've had fifteen hours to get used to the idea, okay?" he whispered back, "How much did you know about it before you read the papers?"

Harry sighed, but said nothing.

"Exactly. All I know is this could be really, really bad." The larger boy bit his lip, an unfamiliar tone creeping into his voice. "I read some of the papers. I stopped because…it's too scary. I don't want to think about it. I don't want it to be real."

Harry stopped in his tracks, looking his cousin over quietly. "What did you read?"

"That…that parts of me could…shut down. My heart could go bad, or my kidneys. I could lose feeling in my feet. And then they could get infected and they might have to cut bits of them off. Or my eyes…I could go blind…"

"But if you take care of yourself like the doctor says, eat less and exercise and lose weight, none of that will happen."

"What if I can't? I'm scared. I could die, Harry. I could die before I'm even as old as Mum and Dad."

Harry was silent a long moment. There was a look of faint desperation in Dudley's eyes, a veiled plea, as if he were begging Harry to fix it for him. The dark-haired boy turned away, shaken, and scanned the bookshelves. After a moment he said quietly, "You won't."

"How do you know?" Dudley half hoped Harry was about to say he could see the future and it was all going to be okay. Maybe the doctors had even made a mistake and Dudley wasn't diabetic after all. Or it could be a joke. Only not a very funny one.

"Because," Harry said softly, "When people are faced with the chance they might die, they do things they never thought were possible."

Dudley gulped. The smaller boy sounded so much older. Haunted, even. "Harry…?" He whispered.

"Here," his cousin said, turning and pushing a thick book into his hands, "you look through that one, and I'll look through this."

Dudley blinked, taken aback, then wrenched his gaze to the cover of his book and sat heavily on the carpeted floor. There were pictures of fresh fruits and vegetables all over the cover. The title was '100 Quick-N-Easy Lo-Fat Recipes'.

Harry sat as well and opened his book, which said, 'Living and Cooking with Diabetes' in black lettering down the spine. For several minutes there was no sound but pages whispering together as they were turned. Dudley wasn't sure what he was looking for, but some of the illustrations he encountered didn't look so bad. In fact, his mouth watered a little, and he forgot about the haunted note he had heard in Harry's voice moments ago. Then he glanced up and found Harry's green eyes focused on him. The gaze was so intense Dudley's breath hitched in an irrational fear that he was about to be turned into a newt. Then Harry grinned, an expression that did not quite reach his eyes, and said "Dudley, look at this…there's a glossary of medical terms in here, and a table showing the calories in all kinds of foods…this could be useful."

He set his book down on its face and crawled over to Harry to peer over his shoulder. He scanned the definitions slowly, "I don't think I understand those…"

"Well…you need to read more. Not that I get all of them, either, but…we'll take it home and go over it later, shall we? How's the one you've got?"

"Um…the food looks kind of good. This is going to be hard, Harry! Looking at the pictures makes me hungry."

"You can have a snack when we get home, if you like."

"I can?" He blinked.

"Yeah. Something light, though, like an orange."

"Oh." Dudley was disappointed for a moment, then reflected that an orange didn't sound so bad after all. He was hungry enough, anything sounded good.

Harry regarded him suspiciously, mildly surprised by his unquestioning acceptance of this. Dudley was being awfully trusting of him, considering they hadn't become friendly at all until just a couple days ago. He couldn't decide whether it was touching or just unnerving. "Well," he said after a moment, "Lets check these out and walk them home. I bet your Mum'll help you look them over, too. She likes cooking."

"I think I hurt her feelings," Dudley said, standing up with a groan. "I told her bugger off when she came to tuck me in this morning."

Harry turned away quickly, shaking in what seemed to be a coughing fit.

"You're laughing," Dudley accused.

"Never," his cousin straightened, his eyes sparkling, then headed for the checkout desk. "You could cook her dinner to apologize, then. She'd think it was adorable."

"She would. But do I want that?" Dudley made a face.

"'My Dinky Duddydums is so talented!'" Harry squealed in falsetto, then ducked and laughed as his cousin swung at him halfheartedly.

"Honestly," sighed Dudley, looking put-upon, but secretly feeling amused.

They checked the books out with Dudley's card, then walked home, taking it more slowly than they had on the way to the library. The books, while not heavy, were rather awkward, and the boys switched off carrying them every other block. Dudley grew quickly red-faced and breathless again, but Harry seemed to enjoy the sun and the warm wind that lapped their faces from time to time.

A couple blocks from home, while Dudley was carrying the books, they were stopped by a voice off to their left shouting, "Oi! Dursley! Long time no see!"

They turned to find Piers Polkiss barreling toward them, followed by about half a dozen other boys. Harry frowned and straightened a little, instinctively trying to look bigger and less vulnerable than he felt. Piers had grown. He was still rail-thin, but he was approaching six feet in height. His face was split in a broad grin, his skin sun-baked to a shade of terra-cotta, but the rodentlike look of his youth had not faded entirely.

"Hallo," Dudley said a little uncertainly. Piers hadn't spoken to him at school in months. Not that they had had a falling out. They had just lost interest in one another.

"Runt," Piers greeted Harry, nodding down at him magnanimously. 

Harry scowled, but gave a curt nod in return, replying "Ratface," with understated boldness.

The boys behind Piers laughed and elbowed one another. Harry recognized most of them from the grade school he had attended with Dudley. They had all grown as well.

"You going to let him talk to me like that, Dursley?" Piers asked, but he was grinning, more amused than offended.

Dudley felt a knot of tension begin to form in his chest, but he replied as casually as he could, "I'm not in charge of him."

"Aren't you? I thought maybe you were babysitting."

Harry folded his arms tightly. A flush was creeping over his cheeks.

"What are you up to?" Dudley countered, ignoring the implied insult for the moment and trying to turn the tide of the conversation.

"Playing." One of the boys behind Piers flipped a soccer ball into the air and caught it again. "Want to join?"

"Dursley isn't into sports," Piers sounded a little condescending.

The knot in Dudley's chest tightened. "Just because I'm not on a team!" He huffed.

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose, watching silently.

"Oh, come on," Piers' grin widened. "You know you'd rather be inside on the computer or…" he snatched the books out of Dudley's arms abruptly and looked the titles over, "Cooking?? Look at this, Dursley's going to be a chef. Maybe there's a place for you on a team after all! You can make snacks for the players after the game."

The knot drew tighter still as the boys behind Piers snickered. Dudley struggled for a retort.

"Low-fat? Now, that really isn't like you…" One boy commented, peering at a title over Piers shoulder.

Dudley's heart sped up, and he snatched the books back, his face red from humiliation now as much as heat and exertion. "As a matter of fact these aren't mine." He shoved the books into Harry's arms, almost knocking the smaller boy over.

Harry stumbled slightly, his eyes going wide.

"Oh, so the runt is the chef?" Piers laughed, "Is he making the snacks, then?"

"He did make my lunch this afternoon," Dudley said a little smugly, trying to ignore the viridian gaze that snapped toward him abruptly.

The boys applauded mockingly, led by Piers. "He's finally found his place in the world, the little freak."

Dudley shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away from Harry a bit to avoid the growing intensity of his gaze. "He was bound to be good for something, sooner or later."

There was a strange pop, and a slow hissing sound. All the boys turned to look at the soccer ball, which was slowly going flat. "That's funny," Piers stared, poking at it. "What made it do that?"

Dudley turned to look at Harry, but found he was not where he had been a moment ago. A small, dark-haired figure was stalking rapidly down the sidewalk, two books tucked under its arm. The tension in Dudley's chest loosened suddenly, to be replaced by a hot flood of guilt.

"We'll have to find another one, I guess," one of the boys was saying.

"Yeah. You coming, Dursley, or going home?"

Dudley bit his lip. "Um…Coming. Sure. Yeah. Why not."

He glanced at Harry one more time, then followed Piers and the other boys at the closest thing to a run he could manage.

Harry went home alone.

A/N: Dudley's only human, after all. Can't reform him completely in just five chapters. But don't give up on him yet!

I know exactly where I'm going in the next two chapters, but after that…eheh. I'll be stuck. But I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Just yesterday I got my own HBA1C results back: 6.6! Higher than 7 is bad, for those who don't know. 6.6 isn't ideal, but it's not as bad as I was afraid it would be. I'm so relieved!!

Thanks to all who reviewed, particularly repeat reviewers!

AngelOnFire: Thank you! I'm trying to use Dudley's diagnosis as a vehicle for increased understanding between him and Harry, which kind of forces me not to focus completely on Dudley's emotions, but also to Harry's reactions. But actually, it's a little amusing to me that there's a plotline at all. Originally, I just intended for it to be a sort of triptych consisting mostly of dialogue between the two boys. Frankly, I like this better.

S. C. Hardy: Oh, I don't know. If they were trapped on a desert island together or were the last two people on earth or something… ;-) There aren't too many stories that focus entirely on Dudley-Harry interaction, but there are lots out there that have them getting along as an element of the plot. Ozma's latest ('Squib Guardian') and rabbit's 'Yet Another Snape Meets the Dursleys Story' come to mind. (Yes, you may consider this an advertisement.)

Catspook: I love how I'm getting all these compliments about them being in character. I try so hard and I'm never quite satisfied, but the fact that other people are makes me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy. ;-) As for Petunia…she'll avoid taking sides as long as possible.

Ariqua: Poor Harry. He really would rather have gone with Mr. Weasley. After this chapter he might be reconsidering his choice. But I do think he tries hard to do what's right. I actually feel like I don't proofread as much as I should. Looking back at the first chapter now I see some glaring mistakes, mostly in using the same words or phrases more than I'd have liked. But at least it's readable now. I hope to go back after it's all done and polish it up a bit more.

Ariana Deralte: I'm trying to cut back the mini-essays in my responses. Now I've gotten a livejournal, hopefully that'll help and I can confine my musings to there. I think I just really enjoyed the mental image of Dudley throwing things at his father. Maybe he'll do it again later. *eg*

Katriana: Emails it is. Hopefully you haven't changed addys since my last update. I'm also glad that people seem to be accepting of Bill being diabetic. Why I chose him, out of all the Weasleys, I'm not sure. In retrospect, Percy might have been a more interesting choice. But it's Bill now, and Bill it will stay.

Queen Li: My dad has type 2 as well, and I'm pre-diabetic, so most of what I write is from personal experience. I fear I don't have as clear an understand of the mechanics and underlying causes, but I have a pretty good understanding of how you feel after being diagnosed, what you have to do to live with it, and how hard it is to adjust.

Smego Baggins: Thanks for the kind words! I hope your health is better now, and remains that way.

Girloz14: Are you kidding? I love being on peoples' favorites list. ^_^

Shadowycat: Dudley may yet visit the Burrow, actually. The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. I just have to think of a decent justification. And probably he'll end up there by sneaking out with Harry behind his parents' back rather than being kicked out by Vernon. Yes, Harry does have a good heart. He's as prone to snap judgments as anyone, but I'm latching on to the way he kept Sirius and Remus from killing Pettigrew in PoA as evidence that he's willing to move beyond his gut reactions to do what he thinks is right.

Rabbit and -v-Jinx-v-: Ooh, I'm alert now? The world needs more lerts. ^_^ I'm having a little trouble with Petunia, actually. I've read all these great fics (yours included) where people really look beyond the surface into what makes her tick, and I'd like to do the same. My trouble is she's the only female in this story and I just want her to be a nice person. But she's not. Maybe I need to write a 'reform Petunia' fic, too. ^_^;;; LOL at your comment about Bertie Botts.

Quoth the Raven: Children's fantasy as a rule focuses on good vs. evil, with characters painted in tones of black and white. There's little room for moral ambiguity. To her credit, I think Rowling has made an effort to include some gray, but even she has left little doubt as to who the good characters are and who the bad ones are. So it's left to the rest of us to dig deeper and bring out the humanity in her villains, the Dursleys included. Which is what I've tried to do with this fic from the beginning. I'm very pleased and gratified that you feel I've succeeded thus far. Thank you for the lengthy and thoughtful review. Now: anyone else who has read this far into the reviews, who hasn't read Quoth's 'Giving Notice', go do it.

A. Lee: Thank you! I'm glad! I will!

Ikazo: Yeah, I think Harry started regretting staying as soon as Arthur left. But it'll give him good karma, right?

Aeryn Alexander: I get the impression that the diabetes stats in the UK are about the same as in America, the lifestyle not being all that awfully different. I get my information from the American Diabetes Association, but I know there's a similar, allied association in Britain. I'm not sure I am handling everything in this story, though…its sort of experimental for me, but I'm trying to let the characters guide the interactions and letting the plot progress as naturally as I can through cause and effect. When I was younger I used to just sit in front of a piece of paper and write and just see where it took me. Lately I've been doing detailed plotting before even beginning a story. The writing method I've been using here is somewhere in between. I'm not sure it would serve me too well for a novel, but it's working nicely for a fanfic.

Anonymous person: Thanks!

Fleur: I'm a really slow updater, and I apologize. I know it drives me nuts when people take months to update their fics, but if I try and pick up the pace, I'm just not happy with the results. I hope you're still reading. And thank you for tolerating my mini-essay, as well. ^_^

Naomi SilverWolf: I'm actually portraying Dudley as a bit like myself in some ways, particularly toward the middle of this chapter. Not that I was ever quite so grabby or bratty or hostile (at least, I sure hope not), but I was and am a bit spoiled and I have *so* much trouble on diets. I used to cache food just like he's been doing. It hasn't served me well in life, unfortunately. _

Crystalclear8050: Thank you! I try to write with less-used characters as much as I can, although I usually just write where I've got inspiration.

Triskelion: *blush* I'm glad to be on your favorites list. Thanks for the compliments.

Ara Kane: ::Bridgie blinks thoughtfully as she gets a mental image of Dudley hurling gnomes around:: You know, I bet he'd enjoy that…*giggle*

Ozma: Wow…I'd heard such good things about your work for some time, and then I read it and it was great and then suddenly you appeared on my review list and I just about fell over. I'm so pleased you like my work, and equally pleased that Ariana *and* Aeryn *and* Jelsemium recommended me!

Immortal Rose: Sorry about the distance between updates. I really got stuck on this one, but I'm trying to do better.

SummerRose: I think he will, in fact.

Von: Nasty, yes, but quite understandable.

Camel Socks: I feel sorry for Vernon too, actually. I'm trying to decide now how or if the breach will be mended. LOL…Ron visiting the Dursleys…that would be a riot, but I don't think Vernon and Petunia would willingly let him stay.

Linneria: Bill has type 1 diabetes, which is no less nasty than the other type, but, yes, I imagine he does fine with magic. I wonder if he can take a potion or something instead of insulin shots…

Stormyfire: Nice is a strong word, especially after this chapter. ;-) But he's not as bad as he could be. I'm glad you find him believable

Marshmellow16b: Thank you! Wood, huh? I dunno, he was most definitely a bishounen in the movie, but I find the Quidditch obsession spooky. But to each his own, eh?

Essy Lasaylan: lol…I reread the first chapter and discovered that I mentioned Dudley losing 'pounds' in the very first paragraph. *smacks forehead* I guess it is glaringly obvious. Oh, well. Yes, if you're still reading, it would be great if you'd go through and suggest alternatives. Thank you for the offer!

Shichan Goddess: Wow…there's just so many compliments in your reviews I just don't know how to respond. Except that I'm very, very flattered and please do keep reading! J 

Snidget Jaguarni: Yes, definitely type 2 for Dudley. Apparently it's becoming more and more common in younger and younger people, which is a little spooky.

Smitha-r: I didn't go into much information about diabetes this chapter for fear of slowing the plot down. I think what I'll end up doing is handing out most of the information in correspondence between Bill and Dudley/Harry. I'm trying to be accurate, but if you see any mistakes, feel free to let me know and I'll try to correct them. That goes for anyone with any knowledge of diabetes who reads this story.

OO WTH: I've never even been to fictionalley.org. I guess I should look into it. I keep meaning to put together a web page one of these days, too.

Kranberries: I'm kind of bad about leaving reviews, partly because I never know quite what to say other than 'Good story'. I hope to improve on that habit. Anyway, I'm glad you found your way back and that you like the story.

WorldsBiggestHermioneFan, Rhiain, and npetrenko: Thank you!

Kateydidnt: Type II, as I've mentioned above. Poor Dudley. Look out! The popups are coming to get you! ;-)

Eclipse: I'll be happy to email you as soon as it's posted. ^_^

Icy Flame: I've got an addict, now? Cool. ;-) Don't worry, we haven't heard the last of the Weasleys.

Ahknee/Kitten: Oi, I'm glad you liked it. ;-)

Jamie Anderson: Your wish for an update to be posted soon can actually be fulfilled, since you just found the story a few days ago. ^_~ I really like big words, actually, but I try not to overuse them. I'm glad you like my style.


	6. Hardest to Learn

A/N:  Ta-dah!  Okay, so it wasn't exactly a quick update, but it was speedier than the last one.  I'm rather proud of this chapter, but it turned out so long I had to split it in two.  So, no responses to reviews at the end of this chapter, I'll put them on the end of the next chapter, 'Mistakes Were Made', which will be posted at the same time.

Disclaimer from chapter one still applies. Offer void where prohibited.

_You have to laugh at yourself, because you'd cry your eyes out otherwise._

"You're a prat, Dursley," Dudley muttered to himself, sitting heavily on the pavement.  "Prat, prat, prat!"

Piers and the other boys were still running back and forth in the chaotic dance that was their pick-up soccer game, but Dudley had bowed out by necessity.  At first, he had tried to play defense, but though his bulk was an effective block when it was in the right place, he simply didn't move quickly enough to suit his teammates.  They tried him as a goalie next.  Here he did much better, until a forceful kick from Piers sent the ball slamming into a Very Bad Place on Dudley's anatomy.  When he could breathe again, ten minutes or so later, he crept off the field, humiliated.  They had *laughed* at him.

                "Thought it was funny, did you?" he wheezed at the oblivious soccer players.  "I wish I could do magic…I'd pop more than just your football."

                He paused, realizing what he'd just said.  As if his mind had been split, his thoughts took two separate paths at once.  The first said 'Dad would kill me if he heard me saying that!'.  The second said, a bit louder, 'Harry felt like this.  I made Harry feel like this.  Again.'.  Dudley moaned and rested his sweaty forehead on his knees.  His cousin would never forgive him.

                "Prat," he mumbled to himself again.  He felt weak and a little lightheaded.

                "Oi, you okay, kid?"

                Dudley jumped and looked up.  A skinny woman with brown hair in a ponytail was standing a couple feet away, straddling her bicycle, which she had obviously stopped pedaling to avoid running him down.

                "Sorry…" he shifted to the side a little.

                "I know you…"  She bent to peer closer.  Her eyes were a muddy hazel, but bright and pleasant in her oval face.  She looked about twenty-five years old.  "Last night, in the ambulance!  You're the magic mushroom boy.  You okay?"

                He blinked, recognizing her dimly as the emergency technician whose opinions he had asked in regards to magic food.  "They weren't mushrooms, just jellybeans."

                "Right."  She cracked a smile.  "Look, are you sure you should be out and about in this heat?  You were pretty sick last night."

                "We went to the library," he said, "My cousin and me.  To get cookbooks for diabetics."

                She stepped away from her bicycle and let it fall, crouching next to him.  "You seem a little out of it.  Are you shaky?  Dizzy?"

                "Yeah," he admitted, "But I was just hit in the--that is, a soccer ball ran into me."

                "Do you take pills?  For diabetes?"

                "Not yet.  Dad went to get them this morning."

                She relaxed.  "Oh, well, you're probably okay then.  Well, not okay, really, you should take your blood sugar and see if you need a snack.  And get inside, for goodness' sake, before you get heatstroke."

                "How am I supposed to lose weight if I get sick whenever I exercise?" He complained.

                "Just don't overdo it, silly.  Where do you live?"

                "Two streets over."

                "Think you can walk?"

                "Um."  He started to pull himself up, accepting her helping hand only reluctantly.  "Slowly, I guess."

                "I'll walk you home, then."  She picked up her bicycle and put it between them.   "So your cousin ditched you?"

                "No, it's not like that…" he gripped a handlebar for support.  "I made him angry.  He was trying to help me and then those boys I was playing with came along and I sort of dumped him for them."

                She shook her head.  "So are you going to apologize to him?"

                "It doesn't matter.  He'll never forgive me."

                "Never's a long time."

                "You don't know him.  Or me, really.  The way things are at our house."

                She gave him a long look.  "Well.  No, but I do know you don't get forgiveness if you don't ask for it. Or anything else, when it comes right down to it."

                He was silent a moment, then asked, "You knew I had diabetes, didn't you?  Before we got to the hospital?"

                "I thought it was a good possibility," she replied.  "I'm a medical student, you know, it's my job to pick up on these things.  Or will be, one day."

                "You'll be good at it."

                She smiled, "Thanks.  I hope so."

                They said nothing more until they reached the Dursley residence.

                "Well, bye," said Dudley, avoiding her eyes, "Thanks."

                "Hang on.  You're getting a new glucometer, right?"

                "Er?"

                "To measure your blood sugars.  You ought to have someone show you how to use it properly.  You want to bring it out here and I'll have a look?"

                "I don't know if I've got it yet," he said slowly, "but I'll check…um…you can come in, I suppose."

                She let her bike rest on the lawn and followed him into the living room.  "Nice place…"

                He nodded absently, glancing around.  The living room was neat and bare, as was the dining room.  In the kitchen, however, he found his mother seated at the table next to a bag from the local pharmacy.  Her eyes were red, and she sniffled a little.  She brightened as he entered, standing to wrap him in a fierce embrace, "Diddy!  I was so worried!  Don't you ever go off like that again without telling me!  Especially when you're sick!"

                Noting the ponytailed girl in the kitchen doorway, looking amused, Dudley struggled to free himself.  "Mum!  I'm fine.  Honestly.  We just went to the library, it isn't far."

                Petunia caught sight of the strange woman and frowned, smoothing Dudley's clothes maternally.  "Who's this, dumpling?"

                "You don't recognize her?  From last night?"

                The younger woman extended a hand, "Linnea Proust.  I sort of ran into him on the sidewalk.  He may be having a mild hypoglycemic reaction, so I walked him home."

                Petunia blanched, "What does that mean?"

                "Just that his blood sugar's a bit low.  Did you buy him a glucometer?  I offered to show him how to use it."

                "Oh, that awful thing!" Mrs. Dursley said savagely, "I read the directions myself.  There has to be some way to do it other than sticking him with pins three times a day…"  She rifled through the bag and pulled out a small patent leather case, handing it disdainfully to Linnea.

                The younger woman sat at the table, unzipping the case.  "Well, it requires a blood sample, unfortunately.  This kind, you can take the sample from the arm or thigh.  Most of them you have to take from the finger."

                "My Duddy's always gotten sick at the sight of blood.  He's a sensitive boy."

                "I can handle it, Mum," Dudley growled, moving to sit across from Linnea.  After a moment's thought, Petunia took the seat between them.

                "Let me show you how to test the meter for accuracy first," the younger woman said, taking a small bottle of clear liquid out of one of the pockets in the case.  "This is your control solution."  She let Dudley and Petunia get a good look at the bottle as she removed a few more things from the case.  "In this container are your test strips," she shook a cylindrical prescription bottle at them.  "And this is the meter itself."

                Dudley regarded the small gray plastic box in her hand.  It had a blank display screen, three buttons, and a slot on one end.  "It's so little…"

                "Portable," Linnea told him.  "You can carry it and your supplies in a pocket."

                "What's this thing?"  Dudley picked up a plastic box about the size of a large eraser.

                "That'll be your lancing device."

                Petunia whimpered and wrung her hands.  "You're sure there's no other way?"

                "Sorry, ma'am.  You're just lucky he's not on insulin injections."

                Subdued, Dudley's mother nodded.

                Linnea took a small strip of what looked like thick card paper out of the prescription bottle.  "This clear part here is where the blood, or in this case the test solution goes.  You only need a drop."  She opened the bottle and dropped a bit of clear liquid onto the strip, then clicked the 'on' button of the meter and slid the strip inside.  After a few seconds the meter beeped and the number '85' appeared on the screen.  "That's good," she said, "Using this solution, you want a number between 70 and 100 to come up.  Any higher or lower than that indicates a problem with the meter.  You want to test the meter every time you open a new vial of test strips, or if you get an unusual number or an error message."

                Dudley nodded, turning the lancing device over in his hands.  He remembered getting his finger pricked at the doctor's office when he was little, during his yearly checkups.  He had always hated it, not because of the blood or even the pain, but because the pricking device made a sound like a stapler: ka-chonk!  It made him feel like the flesh of his finger was being stapled to the nail.  He pulled back the darker blue trigger of the lancing device, then hit the release button.

                *Ka-chonk!* it said.

                Dudley grimaced.

                "Your turn now," Linnea told him, "Wash your hands in the sink.  Use warm water, it makes the blood flow better."

                "I thought you said I could test from the arm," he complained, shuffling obediently toward the sink.

                "You can, and for a routine check it's probably better, but if you suspect your blood sugar's dropping quickly, it's better to test from your fingers; you get a more accurate reading…Okay, here's the lancets," the technician said, pulling out a clear bag full of tiny plastic pegs with balls on the end.

                Petunia shuddered.

                "They don't look that sharp to me…" Dudley said, returning to his seat.

                Linnea pulled a peg out and twisted the ball off the end, revealing a short, sharp needle.  "These are the good kind.  The smaller and sharper the needle, the less it hurts."  She took the lancing device and showed him how to fit the lancet into it without poking himself, then handed him the meter and a test trip.  "Go on."

                Petunia closed her eyes.

                Dudley pulled back the trigger and positioned the lancet over his index finger, chewing nervously on the inside of his cheek.  He thought of the stapler, glanced at his mother then sighed and pressed the trigger.

                *Ka-chonk!*

                He didn't feel a thing.

                He put the lancing device down and peered at the tiny red droplet on his fingertip.  "I guess that wasn't too bad…"  He felt a little woozy, but then he had felt woozy since he'd gotten nailed with a ball.  It wasn't entirely true, what his mother had said about him being sick at the sight of blood.  He didn't like to see his own, and often played up this fact for extra sympathy from his mother.  But the sight of other peoples' blood had never bothered him, particularly after all the movies and computer games he'd played.

                "Hold the test strip just over the blood.  It'll pull it in.  Good…now put it in the meter…"

                All three of them bent over the table, watching the small plastic box with inordinate interest. Dudley and Petunia jumped when it beeped.  Linnea hummed softly.  "95.  That's a good number, actually.  Normally you want to be between 70 and 110 before meals.  You probably feel sick because your body's adapted to the high glucose levels."

                Petunia relaxed.  "He's all right then?"

                "Yes."  She smiled, "If you're hungry, you can have a snack, though.  It might make you feel less shaky."

                Dudley nodded eagerly.  "Harry said an orange or something would be good."

                His mother stared at him.  "Harry said…?"

                He glanced at her and flushed a little, "He was helping me.  He read the booklets the doctors gave me and made lunch."

                Petunia looked bewildered.

                Linnea stood.  "Well my work here is done.  Check the web for support groups if you get a chance, there's plenty of people out there going through just what you are."  She patted Dudley's head kindly and headed for the door.  He followed, showing her out.

                "Thanks," he said as she bounded down the front stairs.

                She just nodded and pedaled off.

                When he returned to the kitchen, his mother was staring into space, tapping her fingernails on the meter.  "Harry made you lunch?" she asked.

                "Yeah," he picked up the meter and stuffed it back into the case.

                "And you ate it?"

                "Mum…he was being nice.  It was tomato soup, chicken salad, and an apple, it wasn't bad, really."

                She frowned, then looked up at him, "Chicken…?  From the leftovers?"

                He nodded.

                "Oh, dear," she murmured.  "Perhaps I should have believed him…"

Uhoh!  What's Petunia done to poor Harry?

Go read the next chapter and find out!


	7. Mistakes Were Made

A/N: Disclaimer still applies. Employees and their families are prohibited from taking part in this fanfiction.

Harry was having a bad day. Unusually bad, even for a day at the Dursleys.

In the library, confronted with Dudley's sudden vulnerability, Harry had been shocked by the realization that the pudgy, blonde Muggle boy, a month his senior and easily twice his size, was more of a child than he himself was. With all his flaws, Dudley possessed a quality that could only be described as innocence. He wanted Harry to use his magic to fix things. He believed that something greater than himself was capable of making everything okay again. And he felt a childish entitlement to such help.

Harry, on the other hand, had fought for his life annually since the age of eleven, with little enough help from his mentors, people he looked up to and even loved. Up until last year Harry had been able to convince himself that Dumbledore, whom he admired fiercely, simply had a hands-off style of management. He really was in control, behind the scenes, and if Harry fell, the venerable wizard would be there to catch him. He could always make things right.

But then Cedric had died.

If that wasn't a failure on Harry's part, nothing was. He had been *right there*! He should have been able to stop it! Never mind that Cedric was the more experienced wizard, Harry was The Boy Who Lived, over and over again, and if anyone could have been expected to somehow block the Unblockable, the Avada Kedavra, it was he. But he didn't. He couldn't. He didn't think quick enough, didn't move quick enough, didn't study hard enough, didn't have enough Power. So Cedric had faced the darkest of the Unforgiveables, and died with a look of surprise on his face.

And Dumbledore hadn't been there to fix it.

Neither had Sirius, or Remus Lupin, or Hagrid, or Hermione, or Ron…none of the people he depended on had been there to fix it.

Harry was forced to conclude that he was on his own, one way or another. Either no one could help, or no one would.

So when Dudley had looked at him with his small, blue, watery eyes, frightened and hopeful, Harry had wanted to fix it for him, because he didn't want to see that faith shattered the way his had been. At least not yet. Not like this. Give him a few more years to be a child. Watching Dudley look hungrily through the Lo-Fat cookbook, Harry promised himself silently, _I couldn't save Cedric. Or didn't, whichever. I liked him. I'm still not sure I entirely like you, Dudley. But I won't let you die. I will **not** let you die._

And then came Dudley's betrayal. Furious, more hurt than he dared admit to himself, and a little startled by the accidental discharge of magic that had popped the soccer ball, Harry had rushed back to Privet Drive, clutching the library books tightly, as if they were living things he could throttle.

He was greeted by a red-eyed Petunia Dursley, who promptly screamed at him like a harpy. "There you are! How *dare* you leave without telling anyone! Where's Dudley?!"

"Playing sports with Piers," Harry replied coldly, dumping the books on the sofa. "I was only in the way, so I left."

"You left him out in the heat?! He just got back from the hospital this morning!"

"What did you want me to do?" He shouted back, temper flaring, "Carry him home??" He stormed up the stairs without waiting for her to reply. 

She was so taken aback it took her a full minute before she screamed up after him, "Don't you turn your back on me when I'm talking to you! You get back down here, you ungrateful little--"

What exactly it was she called him, he never found out, because he slammed and locked the door to his room and buried his head under his pillow until the shouting stopped. When he emerged, white and shaking with rage, a tapping at the window caught his attention. A disgruntled-looking owl was there, one he did not recognize. He let it in with well-warranted trepidation. It bore a letter from the Ministry of Magic. He skimmed it quickly, fairly certain already of the contents.

__

We have received intelligence…underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school…further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion….Enjoy your holidays!

He was beginning to really dislike Mafalda Hopkirk.

Harry sat down at his desk, eyeing Hedwig's covered cage for a moment, then got out a piece of paper and a quill.

_Dear Mr. Weasley,_

I am rethinking my decision to stay here. If it's convenient,--

A pounding on his door interrupted him, "Open this door!" Petunia's voice shrilled, "Harry Potter, you open this door right now or I'll take it off the hinges!!"

He considered a moment, then grudgingly got up and undid the lock, opening the door just enough to stick his head out into the hallway. She boxed his ears immediately. "You little thief!!"

"OW! What?!" He scrambled to keep his glasses from falling off his face and onto the floor.

"How many times have I told you to stay out of our refrigerator? We feed you more than enough! We give you the food off our very table!" She swung at him again, but he ducked.

"All right! All right! I took one chicken breast! I made lunch for Dudley and me! Ask him!!"

"Don't lie to me! I offered to make him something to eat; he said he wasn't hungry. Why would he take food from you after you practically poisoned him just last night?!"

"I didn't poison him!"

"I obviously can't trust you with the run of the house," she snapped, grabbing him by the ear, "Next thing you know you'll be stealing out of my purse and…and buying drugs, claiming they're for Dudley, too!"

"Ouch! It *was* for Dudley! How else do you think I got him out of his room??"

"Not another word! I won't hear anymore of your lies!" She dragged him downstairs and yanked open the cupboard door.

Oh no.

He grabbed futilely at the doorframe as she pushed him in, and the door slammed on his fingers. He yelped in pain and jerked his hand back, shoving the wounded knuckles into his mouth. Outside, Petunia locked the deadbolt, then yelled through the keyhole, "And you can just stay in there until you admit you're a thief and a liar, and God help you when Vernon gets home from the pharmacy!"

More humiliated than hurt, Harry sat on the cupboard floor, nursing his wounds in silence and speculating as to what exactly would happen when Vernon got home.

What happened, in fact, was a great deal of shouting and pounding on the cupboard door. Harry waited it out patiently, having decided argument was useless, but that Arthur Weasley was likely to come looking for him if he didn't hear from him for a couple days, so as long as they let him out to use the toilet, the situation would be uncomfortable, but fleeting and therefore bearable. He replied, "Yes, Uncle Vernon," and "Sorry, Uncle Vernon," at appropriate intervals, losing the thread of the rant until a change of topic brought him up short.

"And another thing, boy! Where do you get off inviting your freaky friends into my house? If I ever come home again to find some tatty red-haired git floating a tea-tray, I'll--"

"Mr. Weasley is a good wizard, Uncle Vernon," Harry said coldly, clenching his fists.

"Don't you interrupt me! I don't give a flying fig who you associate with outside this house, but I don't want to hear about it, and you will not bring them home and corrupt my son! In fact…tomorrow I'm taking that bloody owl to an animal shelter. Maybe that'll keep you from sending out invitations."

Hedwig! "Don't you touch her!" Harry snapped, chagrined by the sudden crack in his voice, but standing up recklessly to rattle the doorknob. "Do you hear me?? She's my owl!"

"I don't care if it's your girlfriend! Out it goes! I'll sell it to the zoo for tiger food if I feel like it! You just be grateful I'm taking it to a shelter instead!"

"She was a present!" Harry shouted desperately, "She's not yours to give away! If you lay a finger on her I swear I'll--"

The vent snapped open, and Vernon's eyes peered in at him, "Are you threatening me, boy? What are you going to do, curse me from in there? And get expelled from that precious school of yours? Go ahead, then."

Harry fell silent, shaking with anger, but struggling to keep a hold on his power.

"I thought so. You hold your tongue and be grateful you're not getting what you deserve." The vent snapped shut, and Mr. Dursley's heavy tread moved away from the cupboard.

Harry sat down again, put his head in his hands, and began, silently, to cry.

"Go on, Mum, you *know* he didn't deserve it. You can't punish him for trying to be nice. I mean it isn't fair, but it's also stupid, because why should he ever be nice again if you're going to lock him up for it?" 

"I have never apologized to that boy in my life, and I don't see why I should do it now." Petunia sniffed, putting a plate and cup on a tray.

"Because I want you to. It'll make it easier for me, Mum, please?" Dudley gave her a doe-eyed look.

Predictably, she melted, mussing his hair gently and mumbling, "My Duddykins…such a good boy."

He winced. "Um…could you maybe not call me that?"

"What? Why not, popkin?"

"I'm sixteen now, Mum. You don't call dad Verniepoo."

She blinked, "Oh, Duddy…Mummy knows you're growing up, but you'll always be my little boy…"

He opened his mouth to argue, then decided discretion was the better part of valor. "Um…am I doing this right? Is the water supposed to foam like this?"

She peered over his shoulder at the pot of beans he was boiling. "That's lovely, darling. I'm so proud of my little chef!" She kissed him on the cheek.

He closed his eyes so she wouldn't see him roll them. When he had shown her the library books, he had been surprised at how quickly she warmed up to the idea of him cooking. She had volunteered to teach him with dinner that evening, apparently using the excuse to make it a mother-son bonding project. She insisted on doing most of the work, letting him mind the stove (protected with an oven mitt on either hand), and make the salad, but she chattered about what she was doing as she chopped vegetables and pieced the entrée together, and some of what she told him about measurements and temperatures made sense. He wasn't sure if he'd remember later, but it was a start. And she seemed happy. Awfully happy. He hadn't apologized to her for snapping at her earlier, but she had forgiven him already. She was like that, at least with him.

One thing he could always count on was Mum being on his side.

His father had looked in on them quizzically, but the salmon Florentine they were making smelled quite good, so he was willing to overlook the oddness of the scene. Dudley hadn't looked up, not quite ready to make up with him yet, but he had come in and pulled a pill bottle out of the bag from the pharmacy. "All right, Dudley?"

He looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah…"

"Good. Here's your pills. Glucophage, it's called. They want you to take one before every meal."

Dudley accepted the bottle, eyeing it, then nodded, "Okay."

"The pharmacy gave me some papers about it. You'll want to look them over."

Dudley nodded.

"Mum and I can read them with you later, how's that?" Vernon spoke in a slightly too-hearty rush.

"Um…yeah. All right, then." Dudley answered, then tried a wary smile.

His father mussed his hair, immensely relieved, and left the room.

Dudley set the pill bottle down and returned to stirring the boiling beans. It was nice, in a way, to have his parents back him up like this. But something about it made him uncomfortable, too. They were his parents, and he loved them, of course. And needed them. That was what made him feel funny about it. And the idea of sitting on the couch between his Mum and Dad while they went over information from the doctor and pharmacy, his mother petting and cooing and his father cracking stupid jokes made him feel even funnier.

He'd rather sit in his room and read the papers over himself. Or with Harry.

But of course, Harry would never forgive him. He had to keep reminding himself of that, just in case it were true.

Before he would let his mother set the table for dinner, Dudley made her put part of the food on a tray. Salmon Florentine, boiled string beans, salad, and sugar-free gelatin. It was for Harry, who rarely got the same thing the rest of the family was eating. Petunia didn't seem to like it, but was willing to do it for her Dinky Duddydums.

Dudley led his mother toward the cupboard, carrying the tray himself. He waited while she opened the door. Harry was sitting on the floor inside, his knees folded up to his chest, his forehead resting on them. He looked up, blinking owlishly in the sudden light, then realized who was looking in at him and rubbed his face abruptly, smearing dust over his cheekbone. It wasn't quick enough, however, for Dudley to miss the tear track on one cheek.

Dudley winced. Instant guilt; just add water. "Um…all right, Harry?"

"Fine, yeah," he stood, "Warden?" He raised an eyebrow at his aunt, who scowled at him.

"I'll thank you not to use that tone of voice with me!"

"Mum," Dudley interrupted, staring at her hard.

She folded her arms. "Duddy said I owe you an apology."

Harry blinked. "Did he, now?"

"Yes," Dudley nodded, "And…um…me, too. I shouldn't have said all that stuff. It's just…Piers and…well, nevermind. I'm sorry, anyway."

"And I suppose I should have checked my facts with Dudley before punishing you." Petunia said grudgingly.

Harry looked from one to the other in confusion. "Ah."

"Um…we brought you dinner, too." Dudley put in.

Harry eyed the tray, "Am I eating in here?"

"No, no, you can come out. Get out of there, go on," Petunia hustled him out impatiently and closed the cupboard door behind him. "You can go back to your room to eat."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, and there was a tang of bitterness in his voice when he said, "I see…"

"I'll have a talk with Vernon, too," Petunia sighed, "He won't take your owl, he was just talking. You know how he gets when he's angry."

Harry took a deep breath, straightening. There was a too-old look in his eyes, but he just gave Petunia a stiff nod. "Thank you, I appreciate that."

She looked pleasantly surprised, then suspicious. "Well, you're welcome, then."

Dudley frowned. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. After the apology, it was all supposed to be okay again, wasn't it? Harry was supposed to forgive him and go back to being nice, like in the library when they were joking around, not stand there like a soldier at attention, with a mistrustful look on his face. His cousin's expression reminded Dudley of once when he and Piers were little and they had cornered a stray dog in an alley (they weren't going to hurt it, mind you, just catch it and let it loose again inside the school building). The scraggly animal hadn't growled or snapped, just stood, stiff-legged with it's head down and it's tail between its legs, watching them with bright eyes, waiting for enough of a gap between them for it to leap through and make a run for it. Dudley shifted to the side a little, half-curious to see if Harry would bolt for the front door. When the other boy didn't move, he asked, "What's wrong, Harry?"

The look of scorn he received in response could only have been given by a teenager. "Why, nothing at all, Dudley," the sarcasm stung, "I'm just fine."

Petunia was outraged. "You've had your apology," she said a little shrilly, "if you think we're going to grovel you've another thing coming."

Dudley bit his lip, hurt and confused, but unsure what to say.

Harry sighed, "Look…I appreciate the peace offering. I really do. It's not that. It's just…I made a mistake, okay? That's all. I felt bad for Dudley and I was trying to help. Like I'm part of this family. I'm not. Not really. We all know that." He looked at Petunia. She moved away a little, taken aback. "So, you know, you should help him, because he needs it, and all that. But it was stupid of me to try. I don't belong here. I never have, and it's just gotten more obvious over every summer since I started Hogwarts."

Petunia flinched at the name of Harry's school.

"No, no, listen. It's okay. In two years I'll graduate, and as far as they're concerned, I'll be of age, and you'll never have to see me again. Right? You were looking forward to kicking me out of the house anyway. So…why are we doing this? What's the point in fighting any more? You hate me, I'm not fond of you, it's been that way forever, why try and fix it now? Why don't we all just call a truce? Or a cease-fire, at least. You leave me alone, I'll leave you alone. I can even pay you rent if that's what it takes, I'm old enough for a summer job, or will be soon enough. You can pretend I'm just a boarder, and that'll be the end of it, until I go away."

Petunia stared at him, beginning to nod slowly as he reached the end of his speech. "I…could ask Vernon what he thinks of that…"

Harry smiled slightly, but again the look didn't reach his eyes. "Good, then. No more locking me in the cupboard or boxing my ears. And I'll pay you for room and board and keep out of your way. Fair enough."

"No it isn't!" Dudley burst out passionately, setting the tray aside. "It's not true! You *are* family! You're my cousin!"

The smaller boy turned sad green eyes on him. "I'm a wizard, Dudley. I don't belong here."

"So? You're still my cousin! Mum, tell him!"

But Petunia shook her head quietly. "He's right, popkin. Even if you were close…he'll go off into that magical world of his and you'll never see him again."

Harry looked at her, suddenly wondering what she and his mother had been like as children together.

She shrugged, "We're just people. Muggles, or whatever you like to call us. Maybe not so special, or talented, or wise, but we're good, stolid, ordinary people. And we can't compete with flying broomsticks and dragons and magic jewels and quests. I mean, my God, it's the stuff of fairytales, every day. Don't look at me like I've gone mad. I _know_. I remember the way Lil talked when she was at home on holiday. And I used to read fairy stories, until I found out they were true. Then I stopped liking them."

"We're normal people, Dudley. What we do is we go to work, and we come home, and sweep up the house, and cook dinner and maybe read a book or watch the telly. We worry about wars and politics and getting sick and having enough money to pay the bills. Ordinary people. And what's wrong with that? Just because *I've* never seen a real unicorn…" Her eyes softened, wistful. "And *she* used to go into the woods to pet them…who has the right to say I'm not as good as she was?"

Harry got a sudden vivid mental picture of a small, red-haired girl caressing the muzzle of a silken-maned unicorn stallion. With it came a sense of intense longing and envy. Whether it was Petunia's words themselves, or an image that leaked from her mind, he could not tell. But in that moment he thought he understood his aunt, just a little bit.

"For what it's worth, I don't think I'm better," he told her, "just different."

She nodded briskly, snapping out of her reverie. "I'll talk to Vernon about arranging some sort of rent schedule. No more than you can afford with a summer job. We'll work something out." She turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Dudley watched her go, then looked to Harry, "Are there really real unicorns?"

"Yes," he said. "They like girls."

"Wish I could see one."

"Me too." He smiled suddenly, "Wouldn't Uncle Vernon have hit the roof if you'd been a wizard, too."

Dudley grinned, nodding. That was how it was supposed to work, with Harry making jokes again.

But his cousin's smile faded quickly. "I'm sorry, Dudley. I can't help anymore. I wish we could have been friends--family--but it's just too late. You'll be okay. Really you will."

Dudley's heart sank. "I don't understand."

"I just can't." Harry explained quietly, then headed up the stairs.

"Wait! Harry? Mum and I made dinner. Don't you want some?" Dudley held out the tray. "I helped. You were right. I liked cooking."

The smaller boy avoided his eyes, running his hand over the banister a moment. "Thanks, Dudley. But I'm not hungry." He turned and ran up the stairs.

The door to his room closed quietly, and the lock clicked shut.

Dudley picked up the tray and shuffled forlornly toward the kitchen. He knew Harry would never forgive him.

__

Dear Mr. Weasley

I am rethinking my decision to stay here. I have some affairs to get in order, which should take a week or so. After that, if the invitation is still open, I'd love to come stay with Ron. In the meantime, could you ask Ron to please take care of Hedwig? My uncle threatened to take her to an animal shelter, and while my aunt says he won't do this, I don't trust him. Thanks.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter 

PS: Do you know anywhere I can change a few sickles for Muggle money? I may owe some to my aunt and uncle.

Harry

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! Um…and sorry for the depressing ending. But don't worry! It's not over yet!

Erin Malfoy: You must have changed your nick somewhere along the line…I was looking for 'Jamie Anderson' in my review list so I could reply, and couldn't find the nick. I was like 'Hey, did her review get deleted somehow?' So…that was a pointless story, but I'm glad you didn't get deleted. Um…Dudley and Voldemort? Iiiiinteresting…

Rabbit and –v-Jinx-v: Thank you! I tried focusing more on Petunia and Vernon interacting with Dudley this chapter. The contrast from the way they act with Harry turned out rather intense, particularly Petunia. I hope it still seems realistic. (I still like your Petunia better, though. ^_~)

Quoth the Raven: I'm glad you can understand Dudley's point of view in the confrontation with Piers et. al. The sad thing is, I can see myself reacting with a similar lack of guts at that age (the Sorting Hat would not have put me in Gryffindor). Only I'd have been more likely to slink off than buddy up to Piers afterwards. The more I think about it, the more I like chef Dudley, actually. He might even come to terms with his diabetes and come up with good recipes for diabetics. As far as Harry's magic is concerned…well, we haven't seen the end of Mafalda Hopkirk yet.

Ravenclawer: I don't think Dudley's half as bad a kid as he's made out to be. But he is just a kid, and he makes all kinds of mistakes. Actually, I'm really delighted most reviewers seem to be willing to forgive his betrayal of last chapter. It shows that readers are willing to go along with me in trying to present him as a sympathetic character.

Shadowycat: Oh, no, I'm not giving up! I've come too far with this to leave it unfinished, although I am having a bit of trouble figuring out what to do after the next chapter. Thank you for sympathizing with Dudley's position. And don't be too discouraged by Harry's semi-rejection of Dudley's apology this chapter. Harry really doesn't have any more of an idea what it's like to be Dudley than Dudley does of what it's like to be Harry. Dudley's about to get a crash-course of sorts, after which it will be up to him to reach out to his cousin and try to make friends again.

Ozma: (I'm loving the livejournal conversations, btw ^_^) I'm glad you like the way I'm playing the characters. Remember that little conversation between Harry and Dudley in the library…it's about to come into play again. I've got strange dramatic plot point ideas brewing in my twisted little mind. ;-)

Stormyfire: Well, he hasn't gotten scolded too badly *this* time, but he is walking on very thin ice as far as the ministry's concerned. And I'm sure Fudge would love for him to trip up… Thanks for the compliment on my version of Dudley. I'm surprised he's developed as well as he has, actually, and I'm a little afraid to take too much credit lest I offend whatever anonymous muse has been whispering in my ear.

MoonKitten, Koneko-chan: Hmm…well, if you're waiting for Vernon and Petunia to warm up to poor Harry, I'm afraid you may be waiting a while. ^_^;;; I think where Dudley goes, they'll eventually follow, but it won't be easy on anyone, least of all Harry.

Crystalclear8050: But will Dudley's viewpoint change more if he sees Harry with his friends, or if he sees Harry with his enemies? *slightly evil grin* Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything too horrible to Harry--well, yes I am, but not involving physical violence. I'm still keeping the idea of a Weasley visit in mind. And gnome-tossing.

Katriana: *ducks* I'm slow! Sorry! Glad you're still reading. ;-D

Windflower: Aha. I thought someone might mention that possibility sooner or later. I have to admit, I do like the idea of latent magic ability in Dudley. But I've seen it done before, and I strive above all to be original. So no magic for Dudley, in this story. Although if he does become a chef, maybe he can help Harry brew potions. ;-)

Summersun: Well, a month's not bad, considering my past update history. I hope to have the next chapter (what will it be now, eight, I think?) rather soon, though, because I know where I want to go with it.

Aeryn Alexander: I get Diabetes Forecast, so I at least have the ability to be up to date on diabetes information. But I don't read the articles as closely as I should. The last one I remember oohing at was something about scientists inventing contact lenses that could measure your blood glucose level through your tears and change color accordingly. So you could just look in a mirror and know if you were having a low. I thought that was pretty cool. And that's my digression for the day. Glad you liked the last chapter. ;-)

Npetrenko: Thank you. I will. Lots more, in fact, I believe.

Queen Li: *nods* It's amazing how you can find like-minded people on the net. I think that's the real genius of it, putting you in touch with all kinds of people you might never have met otherwise. I love the free exchange of viewpoints.

Smitha-r: Oh, yes, Dudley's about to find out that Harry's the reluctant messiah of the wizarding world. His reaction should be interesting to write. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. ^_^

Andromeda Snape: Hey, why are you wasting your time glaring at me when you could be reading and reviewing my other stories? ;-) And I demand to see your license to use that glare. But I'll take that command as a sign you're enjoying my work, so, thank you. ;-D

Shichan Goddess: Thanks for the compliments! I'm pleased you approve of Dudley's…um…glitch in nobility, shall we call it? ;-)

Essy Lasaylan: You are the wind beneath my wings. No, seriously, I really appreciate the help. Where to begin…My girlfriend wondered about the garbage disposal bit. Actually, a lot of these I should have been able to figure out myself, particularly candy=sweets. Pretzel-less-ness surprises me, though. What about the cheez-crunchie things Harry ate? Is that totally out of left field (wait, that's a baseball expression, isn't it? Damn, I'm screwed both coming and going ;-) )? I was thinking of generic Cheetos, but I know they're American. Crisps would be what we call potato chips, correct? Because what you call chips we call French fries? I have no clue what a Twiglet is, but I like the word. ;-) What else…streets rather than blocks should be an easy correction. Believe it or not, I knew 'soccer ball' wouldn't fly, but the trouble is ideally I'd like to write this so it wouldn't seem foreign to an American reader either, particularly since one of my more devoted readers is the 8-year-old daughter of my girlfriend's coworker (which is also the reason I'm keeping this one as low a PG as possible). I can't think of any way to fix the soccer vs. football thing short of changing sports entirely. Only around my neighborhood the kids would be playing basketball or baseball or American football and probably injuring one another severely in the process, and I could be wrong but I don't know that any of those translate as well as soccer/football, nor can I think of a decent substitute. So I may be doomed there. *giggles* Actually, it's unusual to be seen in less than four hours at an American hospital, too, so at least it's equally weird on either side of the ocean. LOL at the vending machine comment. I had no idea. Oh, well, it *is* a series of fantasy novels after all. But maybe I should have had Harry express surprise? Anyway, thank you very much for the corrections. Please feel free to keep pointing things out. I intend to finish the story, or at least get to a good stopping place, then go back and polish it up. I'll make the changes you've suggested then.

OO WTH: I have, in fact, checked and bookmarked FA.org, and I think I will join sooner or later. I'm focusing a bit on my art right now, but I'll probably switch back to being writing-oriented sooner or later. A Dudley guild? How cool…I'll have to look into that!

Linneria: I seem to be ending chapters on down notes, lately. I'm not sure why. I have to apologize in advance now, too, because I already know the next chapter will end on a depressing note. I'll try to lighten it up a bit after that, if I can.

Freedom Rhodes: Now that's quite a compliment. *^_^* Thank you, I'm glad you find them in-character.

Bockpack: Hey, Percy's a smart kid. I'd be happy to have him review my story, too. ;-) I strive to stay at least roughly within canon when I can, although after Order of the Phoenix comes out, this'll be AU anyway. But that's okay, we like AU, too.


	8. Sleep Interrupted Reprise

A/N: Anyone else noticed ff.net having issues lately? Any ideas why? I just hope people will be able to read this. Disclaimer from chapter one still applies. Discontinue use of fanfiction if signs of irritation or rash appear. If irritation or rash persists, consult a dermatologist.

Dudley, Vernon, and Petunia pored over the papers from the doctor and the pharmacy that evening. They learned that Dudley had Type 2 diabetes, which could be helped vastly by weight loss and exercise, even to the point where he might be able to stop taking pills, at least for a while. They learned how to record his blood sugars, and what the various tests the doctors had given him meant. They learned that he could, as Harry had said, have bread and potatoes and even table sugar, but he had to be careful how much. And they learned the warning signs of low blood sugar, and how to treat it. It wasn't really as bad as Dudley had expected it to be. His mother did coo over him, and his father did make stupid jokes, but thanks to Harry's earlier instruction, Dudley knew a couple things they didn't, and he felt a little proud of it. And later on his mother made plain popcorn and lemonade with artificial sweetener, and they all shared it. His father made funny faces when he drank the lemonade and complained about the aftertaste. Then they both promised him they would pay for him to see a dietician and even hire a personal trainer for him if he wanted, to help him exercise properly. He didn't really want either of these things, but he supposed they might come in handy in the long run, so he just nodded in acceptance.

His father didn't apologize for shouting at him, and he didn't apologize to his father for throwing the teacup. But they both made a silent, mutual agreement to forget about it for now and deal with more pressing matters.

So all in all, it was rather nice, but weird. Dudley had always been able to get any material thing he wanted, but he usually didn't see so much of his parents. His father had work, and his mother had her housework and her reading and her constant observation of the neighbors, and Dudley had normally been more than happy to watch television or play computer games by himself. When they finished the popcorn, Dudley took the bowl to the kitchen and noticed the time. He thought about it a moment and figured out it was the longest they'd ever spent together talking about anything.

He passed Harry's door on the way up to bed. It was closed, and gave no indication of what might be going on on the other side. Dudley wondered what his cousin was doing. Homework? Sleeping? Reading? Writing to his friends? He wondered how he was feeling. Because in spite of his parents' best efforts, Dudley was feeling lost and confused and hurt, and it would be less lonely if someone else felt the same way. He felt as though he had had something taken away from him before he'd had a chance to really look at it properly, and it might have been more valuable than he'd thought. He almost knocked on Harry's door. He got as close as raising his hand, but something stopped him. He pressed his ear to the wood instead, but he couldn't hear anything. So he gave up and went to bed thinking maybe, maybe in the morning he could talk to his cousin and try to fix things again. As he fell asleep, he realized he wanted Harry to be his friend. And Dudley was a spoiled boy; he wasn't used to being denied anything he wanted.

He slept deeply, worn out by the day's activity. But something woke him in the middle of the night. He wasn't sure at first what it was, but then he heard the breathing. 

It sounded as though it was coming from his doorway; shallow, rapid breaths, like someone hyperventilating, or trying not to. Almost a sobbing sound, rhythmic and relentless. In the dark it gave him chills. He cowered under his blanket for a moment, trembling, then he heard a small, thin voice by the door. "Let it have drowned," it was barely above a whisper, but even at that it managed to crack and break and quiver like a child's, "Please…please let it be dead…" A desperate prayer to any god that might be listening.

It was Harry's voice.

Dudley sat up and reached for his bedside lamp, clicking it on and staring over at his cousin. Harry stood trembling in the doorway. His eyes were open wide, but they didn't seem to be seeing much of anything. With one hand, he was clutching his arm near the elbow. In the other hand was a small, straight stick that Dudley had only seen once before. But he knew what it was; a wizard's wand.

"Harry?" Dudley said quietly, "What are you doing?" He didn't like it that his cousin was carrying his wand. He didn't think Harry would hurt him normally, but then Harry was not acting normal.

The smaller boy did not answer, his breath still coming in short, whistling gasps.

Dudley wrung the blankets anxiously. He thought he might know what was happening now. When Harry was very young, he used to sleepwalk. Every week for several months, Petunia would get up to find the little dark-haired boy in the bathtub, or on the kitchen floor, or under the coffee table. Dudley remembered one time he had gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom only to find his cousin sitting, glassy-eyed, in the hall. Thoroughly unsettled, he had fetched his parents, and they had shaken Harry awake and put him back to bed. The next day Petunia had had Vernon install the lock on the cupboard door. This kept Harry's night wanderings to a minimum.

Dudley had since learned that it was dangerous to wake a sleepwalker; he might take you for part of his dream and lash out at you. And Harry had his wand. So Dudley didn't dare move. He just sat still and watched his cousin gasp for air.

Then Harry collapsed abruptly, dropping his wand, and thrashing about as if in unimaginable agony. Dudley gasped and started out of bed, moving closer, but not daring to actually touch his cousin. Harry's head jerked back in a silent scream, his face contorted. Dudley dropped heavily to his knees next to him. What was wrong?? Was Harry having some kind of seizure? What should he do? He bit his lip so hard it hurt, reaching out to his cousin hesitantly.

And suddenly it was over, and Harry was limp, gasping like a landed fish.

Dudley cursed softly, "Harry…? Harry??"

Green eyes drifted half-open lethargically, looking up at Dudley, but they were still glassy and unseeing. The young wizard was not awake yet. Harry reached for his wand, clutching at it, white-knuckled, his thin face taking on a hunted expression. Dudley cowered, terrified, certain his parents would find him scattered all over the room in small pieces the next morning. But instead of blasting him, Harry stood and bowed, slowly and painfully, as if something were horribly wrong with his back. Dudley tried to creep out of wand range, but then Harry fell down again, a faint, strangled wail escaping his throat. He made no other sound as he writhed in anguish.

Dudley scrambled over again. Harry's face looked all wrong and twisted, white as salt and wrinkled like an old man's. There were flecks of foam at the corners of his mouth. It was the scariest thing Dudley had ever seen. He couldn't just watch, he couldn't! He'd get his Dad--no, what if Harry was just having a nightmare? Then his father would be angry and punish Harry. Dudley whimpered, desperately worried. He would grab the wand away! That was it, just grab the wand and then try and wake his cousin…and if Harry wouldn't wake, then he could get his dad or call an ambulance or whatever it took. But Harry was curled in a fetal position now, the wand hidden in the crook of his body, and Dudley didn't think he could get it without waking him first.

Abruptly, Harry went limp again, but only for a split second. Almost immediately, he rolled over and scrambled to his feet. Dudley was ready this time, though. He moved behind his computer desk, watching for an opening. His own breathing was quick, now, and his heart was fluttering like a bird's. Harry staggered, swayed back into the wall, then stumbled forward as if he had been pushed. Dudley saw his opening, and did what was probably the bravest thing he'd ever done in his life. He rushed forward and grabbed Harry's wand hand by the wrist, pushing it up so it pointed well away from him. Flashing back briefly to when he bullied his cousin in grade school, he pushed forward until his side pinned Harry to the wall, then tried to pluck the wand from his hand. Harry's unseeing eyes went wide. "_Expelliarmus!" _He gasped.

A shower of red sparks erupted from the tip of the wand, and Dudley leaped back, tripped over a pile of clothes on the floor, and fell on his rear, covering his head with his hands in case the ceiling was about to cave in. When nothing happened, he looked up cautiously. The light fixture was quivering slightly with the impact of the sparks, but no other sign of the spell could be seen. Harry was standing still, both hands clutching his wand as if his life depended on it.

In his parents' room, his father's snoring stopped with a snort, then started up again. There was no other noise in the house. Dudley couldn't believe the spell hadn't woken his parents. Harry was silent and still now, but his arms and legs were quivering, and tears were starting down his cheeks.

"Harry? Harry!" Dudley whispered, "It's just a dream…Please wake up!"

When he got no response, he stood again and carefully took hold of the wand, trying to ease it out of his cousin's hands. Harry's grip was viselike. Dudley hadn't expected him to be so strong. He struggled a moment, then let go, afraid of what might happen if the wand broke. Harry's face was twisting up again, and Dudley was afraid he was about to have another seizure, or maybe cast another spell. He backed warily into the corner of his room, trying to decide what to do now. He just barely heard Harry as he mumbled painfully, "Yes…I will…"

"What…?" Dudley asked. Was Harry talking to him?

"NOW!" shouted his cousin, jerking the wand up and leaping forward, running straight toward Dudley.

Dudley yelped and cowered, but Harry pointed his wand behind him as he shouted, "_Impedimenta!_" Sparks flew, but the spell only knocked a few things off Dudley's shelves.

Then Harry was dropping to the floor next to Dudley and grabbing his wrist so hard it hurt. Dudley tried to pull away, but his cousin held on, pointing his wand away from them and crying, "_Accio_!"

To Dudley's horror, the spell hit the monitor of his computer, which immediately sprang into the air, then flew directly at them.

"AAAAAAAAUUUUUGGGHHH!" Dudley shrieked, diving out of the monitor's path. Harry was dragged after him, thanks to his death-grip on Dudley's wrist. The monitor hit the bedroom wall with a deafening crash. Plastic and glass flew everywhere. A couple fragments struck the boys, leaving tiny cuts.

And then several things happened at once. Harry, awake at last, released Dudley's wrist and sat up, wild-eyed and shaking. The wand dropped from his hand to the floor. And shouts and footsteps came running down the hall.

"Dudley! Duddykins! Are you okay??" Petunia shrieked.

"What the hell is going on!?" Vernon roared.

Dudley took one glance at his cousin's face. It was colorless and drawn with fear; Harry looked as if he were expecting to be killed any second. Without knowing quite why he was doing it, Dudley leaped up and kicked Harry's wand under his bed, then grabbed the nearest heavy object off his nightstand; his radio.

"I said GET OUT OF MY ROOM, you GIT!" he bellowed at Harry, raising the radio over his head as if to throw it. Harry cringed against the side of the bed.

"Duddy!" Petunia gasped as she and Vernon appeared in the doorway, "What are you doing??"

"Oh, God," Vernon looked at the remains of the monitor with dismay.

"MAKE HIM GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" Dudley howled. No one could throw a temper tantrum like Dudley.

"What are you doing in here, boy?!" demanded Vernon.

Harry sputtered wordlessly, frightened and bewildered.

"I DON'T CARE what he's DOING!" Dudley's arms were already getting tired from holding up the radio. "MAKE him go BACK to HIS ROOM!"

Vernon rushed in, grabbed Harry, and hoisted him like a sack of potatoes. He carried him down the hall and deposited him brusquely on the floor of his own room, then hurried back to help his wife calm Dudley, who was now sobbing incoherently about Harry sleepwalking and being creepy.

"It's all right, poppet, he's gone," Petunia whimpered, trying to take the radio out of his hands.

Dudley relinquished it gratefully.

"Oh, God," Vernon repeated, staring at the pile of broken glass. "Did you have to throw that at him? That was an expensive monitor!"

"It was only 15 inches. I wanted a new one anyway," Dudley grumbled.

Petunia made him sit on the bed and patted him anxiously, as Vernon continued to mourn the expensive computer equipment. Neither of them paid any more mind to Harry or what he might have been doing in his cousin's room. After a few moments, the door of Harry's room closed quietly.

It was at least an hour before Dudley was left alone. Vernon went back to bed after a few minutes, grumbling about the broken computer and being woken at ungodly hours, but Petunia cleaned up the remains of the monitor and brought her son some warm milk to help him get back to sleep. She stayed with him until he finished the last drop. This made Dudley nervous. He was afraid she would see Harry's wand under the bed and put two and two together. But she was sleepy, and focused completely on him, so the wand remained hidden. Finally he was forced to feign sleep to get her to leave.

He waited another half-hour, until he heard his father's loud snoring start up again. Then he slipped quietly out of bed and gingerly retrieved the wand, crossing the hall to Harry's room on tiptoe. He tried the door first, but it was still locked. So he took a deep breath and knocked gently.

"It's me. Dudley. Open up," he whispered.

There was silence for a long moment, then an unsteady voice answered, "Please go away."

"I've got your wand."

There was a moment of silence, then the door was unlocked and opened a crack. Harry stared out at him dispassionately. His eyes were puffy and red.

Dudley held out the wand.

"How…?" asked his cousin.

"You left it in my room. Are you okay?"

Harry looked confused. "I…"

"You look awful," Dudley told him. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. But I couldn't think of what else to do. If Mum and Dad knew you'd done magic in my room, they'd have killed you."

Harry's eyes widened, but he said nothing.

"Um…so…here's your wand back. *Are* you okay? You looked like…like you were having some kind of nightmare…only worse." He bit his lip.

Harry vanished from the doorway.

"Harry…?" Dudley called in a low voice, "Harry?"

When he got no answer, he pushed the door wider open and went in. Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. There was a sheet of parchment on the floor by his feet. Dudley pushed the door closed quietly and set Harry's wand gently on a shelf without taking his eyes off his cousin. The smaller boy's shoulders were shaking, as if he were trying not to cry.

Dudley sat on the floor near Harry and looked around the room. The first thing he noticed was the empty cage. "Where'd your owl go?" he asked.

"I sent her away," Harry said thickly. "My friend Ron's got her."

"Oh…" He was silent a moment, then asked, "Um…D'you want to talk about it?"

Harry glanced up with a funny look on his face. "What?"

"About your nightmare or whatever. Whenever I had a nightmare when I was little, Mum always used to give me sweets and have me talk about it until I fell asleep again."

"I don't think I'll be getting anymore sleep tonight." Harry said dully.

Dudley looked at the floor. "I don't have any sweets to give you. Mum cleaned out my stash."

"Not hungry, anyway," Harry sounded like he wasn't entirely paying attention to what Dudley was saying.

There was silence for several moments, then Dudley offered, "I won't tell anyone, ever. I don't care if you think I'm not a nice person. I mean, I know I've done nasty things to you…But I *can* keep secrets. I can keep secrets *very* well."

Harry looked over at him with a faint frown.

"I kept all Piers' secrets," he said, "and I'd tell you what they were, but then you wouldn't believe me about being good at it." Most of Piers' secrets were nothing to write home about; they involved crushes on girls, cheating on tests, and pranks played on various teachers. But once he had told Dudley how his mother's boyfriend got drunk and screamed at her, and Piers was afraid maybe he hit her sometimes. He'd made Dudley swear on his life he wouldn't tell. And he never did. Piers had looked sick when he told Dudley this, paler than usual and drawn with worry. Dudley hadn't really known what to say, other than to try and talk him into a game of Doom to get his mind off his worry.

Right now Harry looked a lot sicker than Piers had. So Dudley was pretty sure whatever secret Harry had was worse.

"It was scary," he added in a low voice, "you rolled around on the floor like you were dying or something…"

Harry slid off the bed and onto the carpet abruptly, falling into a cross-legged position next to his cousin. "I'm okay now, Dudley. I was the lucky one."

Dudley held his breath, waiting for more.

"See, what you have to understand, Dudley, is wizards aren't all nice people…I mean, I know Hagrid and Fred and George did things that scared you, but they weren't really trying to be cruel. So imagine…imagine all that power…and the person who has it is…"

"Evil?" Dudley suggested softly.

Harry let out his breath in a long sigh, "Yeah. Exactly. There's a dark wizard who calls himself Voldemort…oh, this is hard to explain." He scowled a moment, then shoved back his bangs, showing the scar on his forehead. "This didn't come from a car accident. When I was little, Voldemort was taking over the wizarding world. He did horrible things to wizards and Muggles alike…killed them and tortured them. Some people stood up to him, and my parents were two of them. So he came to kill them. That's how they died. But I lived, because my mum died protecting me."

Dudley's eyes got bigger and bigger during this speech. "That's what Mum meant when she said Aunt Lily got herself blown up?? I thought she meant they were doing spells and made a mistake or something!"

Harry glared, "My parents were very good wizards; they wouldn't have done anything that stupid!"

Dudley winced, "I'm sorry, I just didn't know!"

Harry frowned at him a moment, then relaxed again, mollified. "Anyway, Voldemort wasn't able to kill me, and the spell rebounded on him. He became like a really weak ghost, and he's been that way for thirteen years. Until just a few weeks ago."

Harry rested his forehead on his knees. "And it's my fault, really, because I saved the life of the person who helped bring him back. But that's a long story, too."

Dudley was confused, but he nodded anyway. "So then…this Voldemort person…he came back and tried to kill you again?"

Harry nodded miserably. "He's come back to his full power. I was sort of…abducted from Hogwarts, with another boy. One of Voldemort's followers took some of my blood to resurrect him."

Dudley gasped as Harry exposed the inside of his arm. There was a black, angry mark there, somewhere between a scar and a bruise.

"It's been weeks and it hasn't healed. I'm not sure it ever will." Harry said tonelessly, regarding the scar without emotion. "But it's just as well. I deserve it."

"You don't," said Dudley firmly, surprising himself.

Harry blinked at him, then shook his head, "You really don't know me, Dudley. But whatever." He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. "The boy who was kidnapped with me…he died."

Dudley shivered. "They killed him?"

Harry nodded. "I should have stopped it. I should have been able to."

"But they hurt you," Dudley said, comprehension dawning on his face, "when you were sleepwalking, you were writhing around…"

His cousin nodded again, detached. "It's called the Cruciatus Curse. It's illegal. It was probably the worst *physical* pain I've ever felt."

Dudley stared wordlessly.

"That was during the duel. Voldemort made me duel with him. Playing with me. Which wasn't his brightest move ever, I guess, because if he'd just killed me straight off…well, I'd be dead," he finished lamely.

"How'd you get away?" Dudley was breathless now. This was the most exciting, and yet the most horrible thing he'd ever heard. And it had happened to his little cousin. It felt sort of surreal.

"Luck. Something about our wands. I'd explain, but it's complicated and you don't know anything about wands to begin with."

Dudley glanced up at the shelf where Harry's wand lay, then back at the smaller boy, "But Harry--wait--if you got away…Voldemort didn't die again, did he? He's still out there somewhere?"

"Yes, he's still alive."

"But then he might come after you again!" Dudley's eyes bulged, "He might come here to get you!"

"Don't think I haven't thought of that," Harry rolled his eyes, unaffected by his cousin's near-panic. "Dumbledore sent me here for a reason. There's some kind of protection here."

"Magic protection? Wards, like you said before?" Dudley looked around as if expecting to see sparkles in the air.

"Must be. He wouldn't endanger you and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, anyway. He could have just kept me at Hogwarts. So there must be something here protecting us, whether it's wards or something else."

"But he doesn't even know us…"

"He wouldn't endanger…anyone…unnecessarily…" Harry's voice trailed off as a nasty little doubt at the back of his mind whispered, _Oh, wouldn't he? Isn't that just what the Triwizard Tournament did?_

Dudley did not feel reassured. "You're sure?"

Harry said nothing for a moment, then replied harshly, "Of course I'm sure."

"Oh." Dudley said nothing for a moment, then almost whispered, "Harry? I'm really sorry."

"What for now?" the dark-haired boy asked dryly.

"Not apology sorry, the other kind of sorry," he elaborated. "Because it sounds scary. If it were me…I mean, even if I'd lived…I'd be hiding under the bed."

Harry looked sideways at him, then gave him a wry smile.

"Can you write to me when you go back to school? I mean, I know you don't want to be friends, but I never wanted you to die, and I'll worry now."

A very strange look came over Harry's face.

Unnerved, Dudley added quickly, "You can send it by owl if you have to. I don't mind them." Which wasn't entirely true; he'd been afraid of Hedwig biting him since the summer they turned twelve.

Harry began to laugh, very softly at first, then louder. He snatched a pillow from the bed and buried his face in it as his giggles turned hysterical. Dudley started to edge away, nervous, then thought better of it and touched his cousin on the shoulder. "Harry?? What's the matter?"

Harry snatched up the parchment on the floor beside him and shoved it into Dudley's hand, his face still buried in the pillow.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have received intelligence that no less than three spells were used at your place of residence this morning: a Disarming Hex at ten minutes to two, an Impediment Curse at five minutes after two, and a Summoning Spell at six minutes after two.

You have already received a warning this summer. We must reiterate to you that underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school. As per the guidelines set out in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery (1875, Paragraph D), you are as of now **suspended** from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry pending an investigation into this matter.

You will receive, by owl, information regarding your expulsion hearing within the next two days. A faculty member of your school will be sent to confiscate your wand until the hearing commences.

In addition, a representative from this office will contact you regarding your offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, i.e. performing magic in a situation where the effects may be noticed by members of the non-magical community (Muggles). We recommend that you obtain some form of counsel.

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

__

Ministry of Magic

"But you were asleep!" Dudley exclaimed, "That's not fair!!"

Harry raised his head at last, rubbing tears of mixed mirth and misery out of his eyes. "Tell that to the Ministry of Magic."

A/N: Okay, here's where I get stuck. ::Ducks as heavy objects are thrown at her:: I'm sorry! I'm just not entirely sure where to go with the plot from here. I have ideas I want to work in, but no clever way for Harry to weasel out of the trouble he's just gotten into. Like I mentioned before, I'm sort of letting the plot flow on its own through logical cause and effect for this story, rather than working out the whole shape of it ahead of time, like I've done with Little Gidding. I'm in the brainstorming stage for the next chapter now. So if anyone has any ideas, feel free to include them in reviews or post them on my livejournal, the URL of which can be found on my bio page. I'd put my email address up here, too, but I'm afraid of spam. I can't remember if it's on my bio page or not.

The other thing I'd love to see is suggestions for improvements I could make in my writing style.

Thanks to all who reviewed, and extra thanks to those of you who've kept coming back for multiple chapters. This is all so very good for my self-esteem. ;-)

Reader: One thing I always try to do in both original and fanfiction is make sure the characters seem real and human. I think it's a habit from all the free-form roleplay I participate in. Anyway, the more realistic the characters, the more realistic their interaction. I'm glad you feel I'm succeeding. ^_^

Shichan Goddess: Heheheh, exactly. Dudley's relationship with Harry would never improve if he never felt guilty enough to make efforts to make up for his own behavior. Harry does the angst-thing so well, doesn't he? Honestly, though, I think it's a wonder he's not more messed-up than he is. The Petunia thing just clicked, and I'm very pleased with it. I'm thinking of writing a Petunia and Lily ficlet now. Btw, you get extra cool points for reviewing both chapters. ;-)

Kateri: Don't worry, Dudley and Harry will get a chance to kiss and make up. Only without the kissing part, because that's a disturbing mental image. ;-)

Ozma: You get cool points for leaving two reviews, also. ^_^ Poor Petunia can't stand the thought of her baby being poked with needles. Rey thought her reactions were particularly amusing in Chapter 6. I'm not sure where the unicorns bit with Petunia came from…I guess since I grew up reading and loving fantasy it occurred to me how bitter I'd be if I knew for certain of a place where unicorns lived and I couldn't go to them. Having all these marvelous things hidden from you because of a lack of a certain talent seems awfully unfair, even though being open about the magical world has potential for problems as well. I read this really interesting editorial a while back, called 'In Defense of Muggles' or something like that. Oooh, I wish I had saved it, it was really well-written and probably at least partially the impetus for this story. I'll have to check the local library for it. As for Harry…boy, I hope he doesn't wind up as scarred by his experiences as Frodo. The comparison is rather apt, though, isn't it?

Moon Kitten, Koneko-chan: ::observes the chaos:: My, my. I dunno, there's so much bad blood between Harry and the Dursleys, any kind of amicable relationship will be difficult. I think Vernon's the one I'm fighting with the most, because I have yet to formulate a reason for his behavior other than general jerkishness. But don't worry, I'll find something…

Npetrenko: Thank you. I hope this was soon enough.

OO WTH: Hmmm…well, Dudley's definitely not a Ravenclaw. I don't think he's dumb, but academics do not appear to be his forte. I'd hesitate to put him in Hufflepuff, myself, because they're described as hardworking, which Dudley, having been spoiled all his life, ain't. I lean towards Slytherin for Dudley. He may not be terribly ambitious, but he can be cunning in the sense of being able to manipulate people around him into doing what he wants, like hugging his Aunt Marge with the knowledge he'll be paid for it. I'd like to think Dudley has enough guts for Gryffindor, but the books don't really bear that out yet. Yes, Harry does have some resources, which he is wisely not going to mention to his aunt and uncle. ;-)

Wishweaver: Thank you!

Crystalclear8050: Um…just pretend you're taking O.W.L.s? I took AP classes in high school, but I was too emotionally messed up at the time to take the tests. I actually got into the room where they were giving the AP American History test and then totally lost it, crying and everything. I had to leave. Wait, this isn't encouraging, is it? I'll shut up now, sorry. I think Dudley's about to meet a lot of folks from the wizarding world. Ron's high on my list, as is Sirius.

Smitha-r: Did I really? *beams* I like plot twists, but I'm not always so good at producing them. I just hope I can believably squirm my way out of the latest one.

Kateydidn't: Thank you!

Erin Malfoy: Not a problem, I was only confused for a few minutes. ^_~ I think Harry's rent money may end up paying for Dudley's personal trainer. ^_^;;;

Queen Li: Sorry! I'm trying to lighten the mood in the upcoming chapters, inasmuch as I can with Dudley being ill and Harry being suspended. Maybe I'd better bring Ron into it, he gets all the funny lines in the movies.

Katriana: *blush* Thank you! It's wicked, even? LOL, glad you approve. I'm afraid there may be a lull before the next update, but I'll try and pick up the pace if I can.

Quoth the Raven: I wasn't sure whether to leave a comment on your LJ or not…oh, well, you found the update in the end. I'm not satisfied with Vernon yet, but I'm pleased with the way I've been able to get into Dudley and Petunia. The trouble now is the action is moving into the wizarding world by necessity, but I don't want to move away from the focus on the Dursleys. Suggestions would be much appreciated.

Shadowycat: I think if I were in Petunia's position, I'd have ended up quite bitter myself, angry at the wizards paternalistically withholding the truth about magic and supernatural creatures. I wouldn't take it out on a child, though, at least I hope not. Harry *thinks* he's completely given up, but Dudley's not going to let him get away with that, particularly not now that he knows his life is in danger. Thank you for the compliments! I always appreciate your nice, lengthy reviews. ^_^


	9. Paperwork

A/N: Yay! This is now officially AU, because of the emergence of OoTP, however, I wrote this chapter before I read the book, so there are no spoilers in the body of the story. Thanks to Quoth the Raven for contributing dialogue ideas and for beta-reading, and thanks to Smitha for the email. Thanks also to everyone who left plot ideas in reviews, as well. I think I know where I'm headed now.

Disclaimer from chapter one still applies. I've run out of clever little disclaimer taglines, but that's probably just as well.

"Albus, we've got problems."

Dumbledore looked up slowly from the massive stack of Ministry forms he had been poring over for half the night, and raised a silvery-white eyebrow. "New ones, you mean?"

Professor McGonagall waved a sheet of parchment at him impatiently. "Potter's run afoul of the Improper Use of Magic Office again. We've been instructed to suspend him."

The other snowy brow ascended toward the Headmaster's hairline. "'Instructed'?" he repeated mildly, "Have we really?" He removed his spectacles and polished them on his sleeve, pursing his lips in thought.

"It's as much as an order," she told him, indignation quivering in her voice, "The ministry owl dumped the envelope right on my head." She was still in her pajamas, which were gray with navy stripes. Over them, she wore a red terrycloth robe with a gold lion embroidered on the left breast. Her salt-and-pepper hair was disheveled. "Why you had to give them *my* name as contact, I don't know." She hated being awakened in the middle of the night; it conjured up all sorts of unpleasant memories. And now Albus was looking amused. Annoyed, she shoved the paper at him, and he accepted it, resettling his glasses on his nose.

"Hmmmmmm," he said after a moment, slow and thoughtful as was his wont.

"It *is* standard procedure," Minerva said, collapsing into a seat, "I don't like their tone, but casting three wand-necessitating spells in less than twenty minutes…"

He nodded, inspecting Mafalda Hopkirk's signature absently.

She was silent a moment, waiting for him to say something, then burst out again, "Still, we can hardly leave him wandless with…with You-Know-Who out there. Even with his relatives."

"Quite true," he agreed.

Her wand was in the bathrobe pocket behind the gold lion. For a moment she toyed with the idea of pulling it out and casting a Tangling Hex on his beard, just to get a reaction out of him. "Well?!" she pressed at length.

"Do we know *why* Harry cast those particular spells?" He asked thoughtfully.

"Does it matter? They'll have us take his wand regardless, unless it was in self-defense."

"Knowing Harry, self-defense is entirely possible. I think perhaps we should get his side of the story before we act further."

"Damn it, Albus, do you want to be removed as Headmaster?" she pounded his desk, making his forms jump. "This is a direct order from the Ministry of Magic!"

He straightened his papers primly, looking tired and a bit frustrated. "I am aware of that, Minerva. I am aware of how precarious my position is. The Ministry has been very thorough in reminding me." He silently counted the number of pages he had left to fill out. It topped a hundred.

She watched him a moment, then sighed, "*Our* position, Albus. I cannot handle this without you. I cannot protect this school on my own if they make you leave."

"My dear Professor," he smiled at her beatifically, "You underestimate yourself."

"I'm serious, Albus," she told him, "I can't do it. I don't see how it is you can."

He sobered. "A great deal of practice." He patted her hand, then leaned back in his chair. "Well…it seems we are between a rock and a hard place. If we act to deprive Harry of his wand, we place him in immediate and obvious danger. If we refuse in an attempt to protect him, his wand is likely to be confiscated anyway; moreover, his situation at school will become less safe, as I will most likely be removed as Headmaster. It seems, Professor, that the wisest thing to do is to stall for time."

"How?" she ran her fingers through her hair, feeling stressed.

He glanced back at the papers littering his desk and grinned a little alarmingly, "By following the Ministry's own example. Minerva, I wonder if you'd be so kind as to ask Dobby to send up some very strong tea, then go wake Madam Pince and bring her here."

"Whatever for?"

"We are going to draw up some very long and intricate Student Suspension and Confiscation of Wand forms."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"All right," Dudley whispered, "All right, it's ringing…it's…hello? Is this Mr. Granger?"

Harry bit his lip. He was hiding under the kitchen table in case Vernon or Petunia woke and came downstairs to find out why Dudley was on the telephone at four in the morning.

"I know it's late, but it's kind of an emergency…I need to talk to Hermione. Um…Dudley Dursley. My cousin goes to school with her. Hogwarts, yeah. Harry Potter. I know, but it's really important. Really really really important. I'll wait. Thanks." He turned back to Harry, "He's getting her."

Harry sighed with relief. If anyone would know what to do, it would be Hermione.

Dudley sat down. He felt a little funny about calling friends of Harry's, but he did want to help, and he could explain away a long-distance phone call much more easily than his cousin could. He just hoped this Hermione person could fix things for Harry. Also, he hoped that she wouldn't be angry with him for calling so early, because if she were as clever as Harry seemed to think, she could probably curse him into next week.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the phone was young, sleepy, and unmistakably female.

Dudley stammered a bit. Girls made him nervous. "Ahh…hullo…er…Hermione?"

"Harry? What's on earth is going on?" the words spilled out in a torrent as the owner of the voice awoke more fully, "You said it's an emergency? It had better be, I've been up late packing, you know, and I'm leaving for Bulgaria tomorrow afternoon. Are you in danger? You're not hurt, are you??"

"Erm…I'm not Harry…I'm his cousin…um…" Dudley took a moment to remember why he was calling. "He's not hurt, but they want to take his wand away and he had a nightmare about a crucifix and he needs a lawyer."

"Excuse me?"

"His owl's in a burrow, so he can't send her to the school, but he had your phone number written down, so that's why we're calling."

"What…? What are you talking about?" She sounded agitated, and Dudley realized he wasn't conveying his message properly.

"Hang on a minute…" He listened to make sure there were no sounds of movement from his parents' room. All he heard was his father's snoring. The coast, it seemed, was clear. He shoved the phone at his cousin, "You talk to her. Here."

"What about Uncle--"

"I'll watch for them. Just talk quiet."

Hesitantly, Harry took the receiver. "Hello, Hermione. I'm in trouble."

Dudley moved off to stand at the kitchen door, listening alternately to Harry's conversation and his father's snoring.

"…nightmare, yes," Harry sounded embarrassed. "About…you know…the Third Task. No, I'll be all right. Only I cast some spells while I was asleep. Sleepwalking. I know, I know, but I couldn't exactly help it, could I?"

There was a pause as the girl replied. Dudley thought back to picking up Harry from the train station at the beginning of summer. There had been a girl there who'd hugged him goodbye, a girl with thick, bushy hair and bright, clever eyes. He wondered if that was Hermione.

Harry's voice dropped an octave, as if with shame. "Yes, with my wand. I can't sleep anymore unless I know it's right next to me."

Another pause. Come to think of it, Dudley had seen the same girl a couple times before, waving goodbye to Harry and the redheaded boy whose father had fixed Dudley's tongue. They must all be friends.

"Three of them. Right. And they've suspended me. No, I haven't heard from him."

Pause. Dudley wondered what it was like to have a friend that was a girl. He never had. He hadn't thought much of girls when he was in grade school with Harry. Now that he was at Smeltings, and was older and more interested in them, they didn't seem to think much of him.

"Well, that's why I've called; you see, I sent Hedwig to Ron, so I'm owl-less. I can't ask Dumbledore anything."

Pause. Come to think of it, Dudley'd never even been hugged by a girl his own age, only older women who were related to him. He wondered if it felt different.

"Do you think Crookshanks…No, I suppose not. I didn't realize how much I depended on owl post. They don't have a telephone at Hogwarts, and Ron doesn't have one, either. I think he called me from a pay phone before."

Pause. Dudley wondered if Harry actually had a girlfriend. It was conceivable. If one girl liked him enough to be friends with him, other girls might like him even more than that. He made a face. It was weird to think of Harry kissing a girl or holding hands or whatever girlfriends and boyfriends did.

"You think it would get to them? Oh, please, yes. I can't get to an office from here, and I only have a few sickles anyway."

Pause. Dudley felt a bit jealous.

"Thank you, Hermione. I'll pay you back. Yes, I will. Well, I owe you."

Pause. Truth be told, Dudley thought Maria Hennessey was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Only he'd started off on the wrong foot with her, trying to bully the smaller students around in front of her in the hopes of impressing her. It had impressed her, actually, just in the wrong fashion. She hated him now.

"Have fun in Bulgaria, I suppose. Tell Viktor I said hello. Yes, please write if he's got an owl he doesn't mind lending. I'll send Hedwig once I get to the Burrow. In a week or so."

Pause. She could be cruel when she wanted to, Maria. Maybe all girls were like that, but he hoped not, because that would mean he'd probably never have a girlfriend.

"Thanks again…You, too. Bye." Harry crept out from under the table to replace the receiver on the cradle. Vernon was still snoring peacefully upstairs.

"Is it okay?" Dudley asked softly.

"In the morning, she's going to send a telegram to Mr. Weasley. He'll know what to do. I hope. Or at least he can send Hedwig back and I can get a message to Dumbledore or Sirius."

"Oh. So that's it?"

"That's all we can really do tonight. You should go back to bed. You'll want the sleep."

Dudley stifled a yawn. "What about you?"

"I'm not sleepy," Harry said automatically, but there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Right." Dudley replied skeptically. He was tired, but the night's events had left him too keyed up to go back to bed just yet. Besides, he wasn't sure he wanted to let Harry out of his sight. He might have nightmares and sleepwalk again, and Dudley didn't want to have to break anything else to keep the peace. "Well…we could watch a movie…"

Harry looked surprised, "One of yours?"

"Yeah. We'll have to keep the noise down, that's all." Dudley shuffled upstairs quietly, returning after a few moments with his blanket and a tape. The two cousins settled at opposite ends of the sofa to watch. It was an action film, with lots of explosions and car chases, but with the volume of the television turned to its minimum, it came across as almost soothing. Dudley was asleep within minutes, but Harry watched the movie all the way through. It was so different from his own world, the world of wizards and wands, dragons and Death-Eaters. It was all machines and bombs and sweaty men with big muscles. Harry felt an odd sensation of relief spread through him, even as he watched a car plunge off a bridge into a river hundreds of feet below. The flickering images were hypnotic, distracting him from his own troubles. When the film ended, he got up and rewound it and started it over again. He didn't fall asleep until the sun had risen and the sky was rosy with dawn.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You want me to prosecute Harry Potter? Harry James Potter? As in, The-Boy-Who-Lived??" Gibson McInnis, Magical Attorney at Law, was dismayed. "Are you insane?!"

"No, but it's entirely possible he is." Cornelius Fudge steepled his hands calmly.

"It's pretty cut-and-dried," Mafalda Hopkirk smiled sweetly from behind her desk. "There's no denying he cast the spells, with his own wand. The signature's quite distinctive." She was pleasantly plump and had a round, apple-cheeked face, a maternal appearance that was very much at odds with the relentless precision with which she went about her work.

"But…but…public relations! There'll be an outcry! My career could be ruined!"

"Not if you win," Mafalda continued to smile, her gray eyes glimmering.

"Had you been following the series of articles by Rita Skeeter, covering the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts school?" Fudge inquired politely.

Gibson was quiet for a moment, struggling for a way to word his sentiments politely, "I…have little respect for Ms. Skeeter's journalistic integrity. I followed her work when I was in law school and noted…multiple inconsistencies."

"Oh? Well, consider this, anyway." Cornelius handed Gibson a clipped article titled 'Harry Potter: Disturbed and Dangerous?'.

The young lawyer skimmed it carelessly. "Does she have any sources that are not either anonymous or schoolchildren?"

"That's beside the point," Mafalda told him, waving a small, pretty hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Forgive me. What *is* the point?"

"This, Mr. McInnis, is the last article Rita Skeeter ever wrote." Minister Fudge said somberly.

"You mean she's dead??"

"No," Mafalda corrected, "Retired. And she hasn't really given a good reason why."

"She vanished," Fudge said, "Shortly after the publication of this article. She reappeared in Diagon Alley a couple weeks later and promptly handed in her resignation. She's on an extended holiday in Barbados."

"Something scared her," Mafalda brushed a lock of pale hair out of her face, "And I know Rita Skeeter. We went to school together. She's no coward; the more dangerous the story, the more it interests her. She also loves the sound of her own voice. So what do you think could have shut her up so effectively, Mr. McInnis?"

"You think a fourteen year old boy scared her into retiring?" Gibson was skeptical.

"I think we can all agree that Harry Potter is no ordinary adolescent boy," Fudge said, offering McInnis a folder full of papers. "Read over his file and see for yourself."

Gibson accepted the folder reluctantly, "I will. If what you say is true…well, then we'll see." He sighed deeply, "Why must we always knock our heroes from their pedestals? Next you'll be wanting me to prosecute Albus Dumbledore."

Mafalda and Cornelius exchanged glances. 

"We're still working on that one," Fudge said quietly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Petunia Dursley habitually woke before her alarm went off, and despite the chaos the previous night, this morning was no different. She turned off the alarm clock, so it would not disturb Vernon. She could wake him for work herself, preferably with breakfast already prepared for him. The scent of fresh grapefruit and plain yogurt wasn't as welcome a wake-up call as sizzling steak and eggs, but it would have to do.

She plucked her robe from its hook on the back of the door and shrugged it on. It was lush yellow-orange velour, and reached her bony knees. There was always an elastic hair-band in the robe's right hand pocket. She pulled it out and smoothed back her hair. It needed a good washing. She'd shower right after breakfast.

On the way downstairs, she paused to peer into Dudley's room, and was surprised to find it empty. Continuing down to the living room, she was further surprised to find her son asleep on the arm of couch, swathed in blankets. The Potter boy was on the other arm of the couch, in nearly the same position, only reversed and without a blanket. They looked like mismatched bookends. The television was on but was flickering between static and bluescreen, suggesting that they had been watching a video. She turned it off and hit the rewind button on the VCR, then regarded the sleeping boys with a frown.

If it had been just Harry, she would have shaken him awake, berated him, and set him to work cooking breakfast. If it had been just Dudley, she would have cooed over the cuteness of it and tucked him in more carefully. But it was both of them, and she just wasn't quite prepared for the conflicting instincts that produced. Wake them both and send them up to bed? Wake them and feed them? Let them sleep?

She studied the dark-haired boy with a frown. He always had to complicate things, didn't he? From the day he'd arrived on their doorstep. Still…he looked so peaceful. She didn't mind him so much with his eyes closed, even with that horrid scar. She mainly disliked him when he looked at her with her sister's eyes.

It wasn't fair that Lily was dead and he was alive.

Petunia swept into the kitchen without waking either of the boys, and got out the grapefruit. She had resented her sister, even hated her at times, hated her for going somewhere Petunia couldn't follow. But some part of her had always hoped her sister would give up on magic and come home again, and things would be the way they were when they were little, when Lily was the admired eldest, and Petunia the cosseted youngest. That hope had died with Lily. Instead, Petunia was left with bitter memories and a scrawny boy whose gaze she couldn't meet without anger.

She cut two grapefruits irritably and set them in bowls, then placed them and the yogurt out on the dining table, along with a little artificial sweetener for Dudley. She put the tea on before heading back into the living room to wake the boys. A knock on the front door interrupted her and startled Harry awake. She scowled at him as he blinked sleepily, then turned and opened the door.

On her doorstep was a woman who reminded her of nothing so much as Cinderella's fairy godmother. She wore a tall, pointy hat with a tartan ribbon around the crown. Her hair was longish, but pinned back, and she wore glasses that made her look rather severe. Her body was draped in deep green robes, and an opal brooch glimmered at her throat. There was a large sheaf of papers under her right arm. "Petunia Dursley?" she asked coolly, giving her an appraising look.

Bristling a little, Petunia answered, "You're from that school, aren't you? What do you want?"

"I'll take that as an affirmative. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I'm here to see Harry Potter."

A/N: Thank you to all reviewers! And especially to those of you who have been reading from early on in the story. I think repeat reader/reviewers are absolutely the best compliment a story can get and I hope I continue to live up to your expectations.

As for the direction this story is taking now…well, I don't want to mess with 5th-year canon too much, but I can't help but twist the events of Harry's summer, so I hope purists will bear with me. I do intend to adopt a few of the underlying political currents and possibly a couple of the new characters from Order of the Phoenix. I'm sure you can guess which one(s) if you've read the book through. Consider this an advance spoiler warning, though I will post an additional one at the start of next chapter, and the spoilers will be fairly minor.

About OotP…it's interesting to me how drastically different my diabetic!Dudley is from what is now canon (juvenile delinquent) Dudley. And yet, observe the interaction between him and Harry in the book. They're far from friendly, but Harry's certainly not being bullied anymore. Something may come of their blood relationship yet. I also love the Petunia development in OoTP.

Okay, that was a pointless digression.

Finally, I'd like to apologize for the lateness of this update, and for not including responses to reviews. I've been a bit overwhelmed with creative projects (actually, this is usually the case), and I also wanted to take a bit of time to give OoTP a good, thorough reading to pick up on foreshadowing and nuances therein. I was a bit shaken by the character death, as well, as the deceased was one of my favorites. I won't go into specifics here, though I suspect anyone out reading fanfic has finished the book by now, or at least heard rumors enough to be immune to spoilers.

I actually completed this chapter a few weeks ago, but I hadn't posted it because I wanted to respond to reviews as usual. Well, time has gone by and I haven't found time for detailed responses yet, and it occurred to me that most reviewers would probably prefer a new chapter as soon as possible. To those who feel differently, let me apologize again. I intend to continue to respond to reviews, as I think the dialogue between writers and readers is one of the best aspect of ff.net and similar fiction sites, but just this once, it's not going to happen. If there's a question you've left in your last review that you still want addressed, feel free to reiterate it in another review, or to email me, and I'll answer it next update.

But to answer a question I've gotten repeatedly (because I'm a slow updater to begin with and I've been even slower than usual lately): Yes, I intend to continue this story all the way to the end. It may take me a very long time at this rate, but I haven't given up. Moreover, if I do give up I'll post an author's note to that effect. So be of good cheer and all that. ;-)


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